


The Greatest Decoy

by purple_bookcover



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Shame, background oikawa/kageyama, heat of the moment, spoilers for 401, spoilers for 402, they both bottom at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR HAIKYUU 401/402It's been simmering under the surface for a long, long time. But here, in the Olympics, representing Japan together, maybe Kageyama and Hinata can finally have an honest moment.Or maybe they'll just fuck.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 189
Kudos: 594
Collections: stories that touched me





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will update as we go along.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama looks at him during practice and Hinata instantly knows. By the time they get to Kageyama's hotel room, they don't need to speak anymore. They just need each other.

The moment the door clicks shut, Kageyama grabs him. 

Hinata lets out a little “oof” as his back hits the door just below a laminated sheet with instructions “in case of fire.” There’s certainly a fire now, one that’s been simmering for far, far too long. One that is long overdue to flare out of control. 

Maybe it already has.

The hotel room door is thick and heavy, sturdy enough that when Kageyama gets his hands under Hinata’s thighs and lifts him up, it does not protest at the slam of his weight against it. Hinata wraps his legs around Kageyama’s waist, yanking him forward by his hair, smashing their mouths together, sparking the fire that’s ached to burn for so many years. 

Kageyama growls as Hinata tugs on his lip with his teeth. He’s already rutting against Hinata, knocking him back against that besieged door with helpless thrusts of his hips. 

He’s wanted this just as long.

Hinata didn’t know Kageyama wanted him when they were kids, of course. Nor even when they reunited as adults. During that first Adlers/Jackals match Hinata certainly burned, but he’d written it off as competition, as wanting to prove himself for his greatest rival.

But here, far from home, placed on the same team, representing Japan together on the largest stage possible – here the pretense falls away at last.

The moment they’d started warming up today, Hinata had known. He’d been stretching when Kageyama’s eyes caught his from across the gym, sparking like flint lighting tinder. Something had pooled in Hinata’s belly, white hot, bubbling, like water about to boil over. 

They’d said nothing, gotten through the practice just like normal. But when Kageyama yanked Hinata out of the elevator two floors early, pulling him down the hall by the front of his uniform, Hinata knew. 

There’s certainly no doubting it now.

Kageyama sucks at Hinata’s neck, pressing him back on that door, which rattles with every beat of their bodies against it. Hinata clings to his hair, fingers winding perhaps a bit too tight, but now that this fire has been unleashed, he can’t control the way it trembles through his hands and makes him want to tear into the man licking up his skin. 

“Hurry,” Hinata rasps, even though everything they’ve done since the moment they left practice was done with frenetic urgency. 

Kageyama rumbles like a cat snarling over its meal and yanks Hinata away from the door. They totter to the bed. Hinata is smaller than him, but built enough with muscle to make for a heavy burden.

They make it to the bed – just – tumbling onto the mattress in a riot of limbs. Kageyama is still trying to suck at Hinata’s neck, but they’re jolted apart in the fall. 

A dangerous thing, that. Too much space. Too much time to think about what’s about to happen in this dark hotel room. 

Hinata scrambles to his knees, shucking aside his sweaty shirt. He isn’t sure if the sheen on his skin is from exercise or lust. There’s little difference anymore. 

Kageyama follows, throwing his Japan jersey across the room. 

Hinata has to gape for a moment. He’s seen Kageyama plenty of times; they changed together often enough back in the Karasuno days. But he’s not a boy anymore. Neither of them are. It shows in the lean muscle corded down his arms and rounding his shoulders. He’s still got a hint of that lankiness he carried around as a kid, but he’s filled out in the chest and back. He’s like a god damn statue more than a man. 

Hinata is still soaking up the sight as Kageyama crawls over him. He kisses Hinata down into the mattress, making him lay back flat, but there’s an odd sweetness to it. Hinata doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to even consider it.

Apparently, neither does Kageyama.

It changes as suddenly as it started. Kageyama tears at Hinata’s shorts, doesn’t bother heeding Hinata’s gasp when he’s suddenly bare, grabs his cock with the same sureness he uses for volleyballs. 

Hinata’s eyes flutter shut, head tilting back as Kageyama strokes him swift and hard. Holy shit, he’s working fast. Whatever suggestion of softness might have been there for a moment is lost in a flurry of heat and movement as Kageyama pumps his cock. 

Hinata whines. It’s pathetic, but he can’t help it, not with Kageyama working him so good, so fast. He’s still competing, Hinata realizes, trying to get Hinata to lose it too quickly, proving he’s better than Hinata’s own hand. 

Game on. 

Hinata grabs Kageyama by the arms, yanks him forward. Hinata’s cock is throbbing, practically weeping to be touched like that again, but he isn’t about to let Kageyama win that easily. 

He flips them both over, putting Kageyama on his back. Kageyama’s eyes are dark, suspicious, but his mouth hangs open, quiet little panting sneaking past his lips.

Hinata leans down to kiss him, to tug on his his lip with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop there, trailing down Kageyama’s throat, nipping at the ridge of his collarbones, kissing down his chest. He’s going lower and lower, but Kageyama doesn’t stop him, not even when Hinata tugs off his shorts.

Kageyama’s cock is already fully hard just from jerking Hinata off. How long has he wanted this? Hinata can’t help thinking of all those snarky little jabs back in high school. Has he been waiting all this time? 

Hinata can’t pause to find out. Every moment when they aren’t in motion is dangerous.

He lowers his head instead, stuffing that hard cock into his mouth, running his lips down the entire length of the shaft without any teasing or build up. 

Kageyama groans between his teeth. He gets his hand back in Hinata’s hair, tangling his fingers. He really likes pulling on it, huh? Hinata stores that information for later, then realizes how deadly it is to already be thinking about a “later.” Better to only think about now, to pretend there is no tomorrow coming. The moment he starts thinking about anything, he has to start considering how Kageyama will react to this in the harsh light of morning. 

He moans around Kageyama’s cock, pushing all his awareness into just this. His hand is around the base, squeezing while his head bobs. Kageyama pushes his head down, just a little. Hinata can feel the trembling strength in that hand, though, and knows he wants to push harder. He’s holding back, actually being considerate. Hinata wishes he wouldn’t. 

He gets his mouth off Kageyama with a wet pop. Hinata makes a show of licking at his lips like he’s slurping up the dregs of something so powerfully delicious he dare not waste a single drop.

Maybe it’s not just for show.

Either way, it has its desired effect. Kageyama grumbles something as he hitches Hinata forward over his hips. Hinata props himself up on an arm and Kageyama uses those big skillful hands to grasp both their cocks. 

The moment Hinata feels his cock pressed against Kageyama’s he emits what can only be termed a full-throated _whine_. It’s desperate and small, clawing its way out from deep in his chest. 

Kageyama hears it. Hinata knows because he meets Hinata’s eyes before he starts stroking their dicks. It’s piercing, terrifying, almost immobilizing, if Kageyama’s hand wasn’t making everything in Hinata need to writhe and grind. 

And yet, honestly, Hinata might not even need the motion of that hand. Those eyes blazing through the dark, looking at him the way Kageyama looks at his opponents from across a volleyball net, should be more than enough for any mere mortal. Hinata knows he’s leaking already, the precome getting them both slick as Kageyama pumps their cocks together. 

Hinata plants a hand on Kageyama’s chest, rocking atop him, swaying into his hold. It’s obscene how good it is, but he wants more, he wants all of it. There’s no tomorrow; there’s only now. He can’t leave anything behind. 

“Fuck me,” he groans.

Hinata hears a sharp intake of breath. Kageyama’s hand falters. 

“Really?”

There’s a horrible moment of uncertainty. This is the instant when it could all break, when the curtains could be thrown wide to let in scorching sunlight. 

But Hinata rakes his nails down Kageyama’s chest. “Yes,” he rasps in the dark. 

Kageyama nearly throws him aside. Hinata gets on all fours, fingering his ass while Kageyama rummages around through a drawer beside the bed. The pop of a cap behind him, the slurp of the lube being rubbed between Kageyama’s fingers, then the sensation of liquid dribbling down his ass, right where his fingers are plunging into himself. 

“I’ll do it,” Kageyama says.

Hinata removes his fingers and lets Kageyama continue what he started. He is quick and direct, getting a finger inside before Hinata’s has hardly had time to leave. Hinata moans from even just that. He plants his hands firmly beneath him, but his arms are already quivering. His whole damn body is quivering, and not merely because Kageyama now has two fingers inside him and is scissoring them wider and wider. 

No, it’s far more than the physical sensations, the fire burning inside him. It’s knowing it’s _his_ fingers doing this, _his_ hand working Hinata wide, _his_ cock aching to get inside. 

Hinata had been self-aware enough to figure at least himself out at some point during high school, even if he’d shoved it aside, but he’s willing to bet Kageyama suffocated any whiff of this he might have felt back then. Hinata can tell that now from the fact that Kageyama is trembling even harder than Hinata himself. Kageyama’s fingers leave Hinata’s ass, but he rubs over the cheek, almost like he’s trying to calm himself. 

Kageyama angles his cock at Hinata’s hole. Hinata probably should feel a little more anticipation, a little twinge of fear, but he presses his hips back at that first touch, yearning to get Kageyama inside him. 

Kageyama fumbles for a moment. Hinata almost dares to ask if he has any experience with this. Of course he doesn’t. This is Kageyama. The moment Hinata asks, or even offers to help, will be the moment this ends, though, and Hinata is willing to bite his tongue a hundred times before he causes that. 

It doesn’t matter. Kageyama is good at everything he tries, masters new techniques after barely a glance, and this is a technique they both certainly want him to master. 

Hinata moans when the head of Kageyama’s cock finally nudges inside him, spreading him wide. It’s a lot. It’s definitely a lot. But Hinata, unlike Kageyama, isn’t a newbie refusing to ask for help, so he relaxes around it and shifts his hips to invite Kageyama deeper. 

Kageyama has always been able to read him. That seems even more important now than it is when they’re on the court. He slides deeper into Hinata, filling him, taking that stretch and burn and turning it into delirious heat. 

“Fuck,” Hinata hisses as Kageyama grinds past his prostate. 

“What?” Kageyama actually sounds concerned. He even jerks back a little.

Hinata rushes, frantic, terrified that even now, halfway into his ass, Kageyama will find some reason to run. 

“It’s good,” he says. “More.”

He wants to say so much else. He wants to tease, to snarl, wants to tell Kageyama to stop being so god damn nice and fuck him already, but it’s all too tenuous and fragile. So Hinata waits as Kageyama presses into him with agonizing slowness, fills him to the brim and waits. Waits. 

The sound that comes out of Hinata is halfway between a whimper and a groan. This is a worse torture than anything they ever had to do for practice. Sure, Kageyama seems inexperienced, but even an idiot could figure out how to--

Hinata yelps as Kageyama’s hand cracks against his ass. His skin is still sizzling as Kageyama starts to move, dragging his cock out only to slam it back in, so deep Hinata is seeing stars. 

It’s like a flip got switched. Kageyama grips Hinata by the hips, bracing as he thrusts into him. He goes deeper with every push, dragging over Hinata’s prostate, picking up speed, grinding their bodies together like kindling building a fire. 

Hinata’s arms are trembling. He collapses forward, turning his head to the side, tongue nearly lolling out as Kageyama finally fucks him in earnest. He isn’t sure if those whimpering noises are coming from him, but they must be. Something darker sounds above him, grunts and growls rumbling low and hot. 

Kageyama hitches forward. That hand is back in Hinata’s hair, but it isn’t pulling anymore. Kageyama pushes his face into the mattress as he slams into Hinata’s hole. 

Hinata isn’t sure when he closes his eyes. All he knows is that his vision goes from black to bursts of brilliant color, sparks that ignite every time Kageyama stuffs himself in up to the hilt. 

It all goes white when Kageyama gives Hinata’s ass another slap. This one is hard, way harder than the first. It singes Hinata’s nerves, tingles through his whole body, quivers right into his cock. 

He doesn’t even realize it has made him come at first. The shock is still reverberating through his body. Only when it passes does he understand what’s happening. 

Kageyama must realize it too. He grabs Hinata’s hips, yanks him close, buries himself deeper than he’s gone yet and empties at last. 

“Ff—ah!” That’s the closest Kageyama comes to any kind of coherent sound as warmth explodes inside Hinata, filling him to bursting. 

Hinata is shaking. He feels unsteady, even with Kageyama holding his hips and the bed beneath him. His cock sputters, a few last drops splattering across the comforter, but aside from Kageyama’s cock he’s utterly empty, drained of more than just come. 

Kageyama withdraws slowly, carefully, panting as he does. Hinata collapses immediately, heedless of the wetness beneath him. 

He lies there on the mattress for a long while, floating in the darkness behind his eyes, his whole body humming with pleasure. 

Did that just happen?

God, it was all so fast. Like high school. Like the dizzying path that put both of them in those Japan uniforms strewn across the floor. A blur – and then it was over. 

The mattress creaks as Kageyama settles on it. Hinata braces. Will Kageyama ask him to leave? Will he snarl, feel ashamed, try to pretend this didn’t happen even while the evidence is sticky on Hinata’s ass and thighs? 

“Water?” 

Hinata opens his eyes, cautious. Kageyama is sitting over him. He’s not smiling, but he’s not scowling either. He has a glass of water and he holds it out for Hinata.

Hinata pushes up to sitting, shuffles toward the edge of the bed. He accepts the glass. He is thirsty, actually. They came here right from practice, both knowing this had to happen in the brief, strange space between playing and eating. 

“Thanks,” Hinata says, passing the glass back.

Kageyama shrugs. He’s still naked, his body outlined in the faint light struggling between the curtains. Hinata wants to reach out, to stroke that sweat-slick skin, to taste the salt on his lips and luxuriate in the heat still sloughing off Kageyama’s body. 

He holds back. Not now. 

“We should...” Kageyama says. He nods at the mess of clothes on the floor.

Something cold sinks into Hinata’s belly. “Oh, right.” 

They sort out which clothing belongs to Hinata. Kageyama doesn’t bother dressing. This is his room, after all. Only Hinata has to get back into wet, disgusting clothing. 

Kageyama glances at a clock. “Don’t have much time.” 

Hinata follows his gaze. Fifteen minutes until they’re supposed to meet the team for dinner. Enough time, but only just. 

“Sure.”

Hinata starts for the door. His heart sinks. He shouldn’t feel disappointed. He knew, even in the rush and confusion, he knew what this was. He’s known Kageyama long enough. He should know better than to get his hopes up. 

Kageyama catches his wrist at the door.

Hinata stops, stunned. Kageyama’s kiss is slow, gentle, quiet, but Hinata can still taste the heat behind it. 

“See you at dinner,” Kageyama says.

Hinata swallows. His heart leaps into his throat. “Yeah,” he says.

He’s smiling as he walks down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This fic updates every two weeks on Thursday afternoons (PST).** There will be a few exceptions to accommodate events and theme weeks in October.
> 
> This is my first Haikyuu fic! I have plans to write more, especially with the series ending and leaving us fic writers with so much interesting open space to play around in. I'd love to explore the post-canon more! 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please). My fandom account is mostly FE3H right now (and so is my AO3 account), but I suspect that'll shift a little as I get sucked into Haikyuu more. 
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes to dinner together. Kageyama kinda wants to die as Atsumu and Kuroo pick up on his discomfort and poke at it, trying to figure out what Kageyama's secret could be.
> 
> Hopefully Hinata won't give him away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we're really doing this! Have it all outlined. My chapters tend to be on the shorter end - 2,000 to 4,000 words. Just an FYI.

_Shit._

Kageyama has fucked up. He’s fucked up _bad_.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters as he rushes around the hotel room.

He doesn’t even have time to feel bad about it. He kicks aside the uniform strewn across the floor, tosses the covers over the bed like that’ll somehow erase what happened there, and leaps into the shower. But no matter how he scrubs Hinata’s scent clings to his skin, sweet and bright and sharp, like cinnamon and sunlight. No amount of soap scrapes it off him. Even when Kageyama gives up and leaves the shower, toweling off more roughly than necessary, he catches phantom whiffs of Hinata’s hair brushing against his nose. 

He dresses angrily, grabs his room key angrily, stuffs key and phone in his pockets angrily. If he could slam the hotel room door he would, but it’s heavy and stiff and closes on its own when he steps into the hall. 

Kageyama thinks he’s doing better, thinks he’s got this under control, until he stands before the elevators. The blood drains from his face as the contraption bings. Will Hinata be inside that cart? Will Kageyama be forced into close proximity? Who else will be in there? 

But the elevator is empty when the doors slide open. Kageyama steps inside and sighs as he reclines against the wall. 

It’s a short reprieve, he knows. Hinata isn’t here, but he’ll definitely be downstairs, at dinner, in every practice and match for the entire interminable duration of the Olympics. _Shit._ Kageyama has seriously fucked up. He’s supposed to be living his dream. How did it turn into this?

He scrubs his hand through his hair as he replays the events that led to this moment. That look in practice. Why did he feel compelled to glance at Hinata that way? It’s not like they haven’t played against each other dozens of times since going pro. It’s not like Kageyama doesn’t see him on nearly a weekly god damn basis.

There’s just something about being on the same side of the net this time, knowing Hinata will be flying across the court, leaping into the air, believing with absolute faith that Kageyama will set the ball exactly where he needs it. There’s something about being perfectly in sync again, like they’re back in high school, like no time at all has passed. 

He feels warm at the mere thought. 

Kageyama shakes his head. Of course he likes playing volleyball with Hinata. Hinata pushes him, challenges him, forces Kageyama to be at his best. There’s nothing _sexual_ about a good teammate – or a good opponent for that matter. Nothing sexual at all.

The elevator bings. The doors slide open. Hinata stands with the rest of the team, laughing, chatting excitedly about practice or their upcoming match or nothing at all. Kageyama can’t hear the words through the static that buzzes in his mind as he watches Hinata’s whole face light up like the sun shines only on him.

_Shit shit shit._

“Kageyama,” Atsumu says. 

Everyone turns to look at him. Kageyama clenches his jaw. 

Someone flings an arm around Kageyama’s shoulders. He can’t even tell who, stares at his feet as he’s led out of the hotel and into one of the team vans. 

Kageyama studies his shoes the entire way to the restaurant. He hears the conversation around him but can’t make out the words. He’s startled when the van stops and someone nudges his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Kuroo says, “still with us?” 

Kageyama grumbles something and climbs out of the van. Most of the team is heading into the restaurant, some sort of sushi place from the looks of it. Hinata is nearly bouncing as he talks with Atsumu. God, how can he act so normal, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, even after what just happened? Did he forget about it already? Or did he simply never care?

 _Doesn’t matter,_ Kageyama tells himself. Maybe the little idiot is just a convincing actor.

Unfortunately, Kageyama is not.

Kuroo grabs him by the shoulder when Kageyama starts toward the sushi joint. Kageyama glares over at him, but Kuroo looks unimpressed with Kageyama’s attempt at intimidation.

“Seriously,” Kuroo says, “you OK?”

“Yes,” Kageyama drones.

“They’re gonna need you at your best,” Kuroo says. “If you’ve got something on your mind...”

“What do you care?”

Kuroo shrugs, casual as ever. “Bad for business. Not a good look to have one of our star players off his game.”

“Hmm.” Kageyama presses his lips into a thin line. Sure, Kuroo is part of the promotion division these days, but Kageyama seriously doubts that’s the source of his questions. 

Kageyama jerks free of his hold. “Worry about your own job,” he says, stomping away. 

Kuroo doesn’t pursue. Kageyama gets a brief breathing space before he steps into the noise and heat of the restaurant. He scans, but the place is a sea of unfamiliar faces. Servers bustle between tables. Raw fish hisses on open grills. Nondescript music weaves beneath conversation and clatter alike. 

The restaurant is dark, the lighting muted against the deep cherry of the wooden panels along the wall. The tables are close together, the lights bright gems among all the somber colors. Overall, it makes the entire place feel like walking into a totally different time and place cut off from the outside world.

“Kageyama!” 

He turns and his blood runs cold when he sees Hinata waving for him from a table packed with their teammates. 

It’s fine, Kageyama tells himself. Totally ordinary. Utterly unremarkable. Just Hinata being Hinata.

Still, his legs are hollow as he makes his way to the table where his entire team is seated. The only chair left is beside Hinata’s. Of course. 

_This is stupid,_ Kageyama chides himself. _Nothing even happened. Just act normal._

 _That was a far cry from “nothing,”_ some traitorous voice in his mind informs him.

He’s growling at the menu by the time a server comes around. Hinata elbows him.

“She asked what you want,” Hinata hisses. 

Why does he look so god damn unfazed? It only throws Kageyama further off-balance to have Hinata there next to him acting like nothing at all has changed. 

Kageyama isn’t even sure what he orders, but it seems to satisfy the server, and the the team. They get back to their conversations. The words fade to a drone around Kageyama, a soothing sort of hum, like leaving the TV on just to have some kind of noise in the room for company. Anything that might keep Kageyama from being alone with his thoughts. 

Food arrives. His teammates dive in, understandably ravenous after doubling up on practice today. 

Kageyama should be just as hungry but his stomach balks at the sight of neatly arrayed sushi, bright makizushi beside pink cuts of sashimi and spider rolls artfully adorned with tempura. 

They’ve been in motion since the moment they all arrived in Tokyo for the Olympics. Practices, uniform fittings, interviews, official Olympic photos and videos. It’s a whirlwind and, while exciting, utterly draining. Kageyama isn’t here for glossy photos; he’s here for volleyball. 

He needs to eat. Whether his stomach likes it or not, he’s not going to be much use on the court if he can’t shove down a few calories. 

But as he brings the first bit of sashimi to his mouth, his gut clenches. He shoves it in anyway, forces himself to chew and swallow. 

“Not up to the king’s standards?” Atsumu sits across from Kageyama. He smirks as he watches Kageyama attempt to eat.

Kageyama rolls his eyes but otherwise does not respond to the jab.

“Prefer something a little sweeter, hm?” 

Kageyama freezes, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth with another piece of sashimi. He definitely didn’t imagine the way Atsumu’s eyebrows flickered upward at that. Atsumu’s smirk has grown, curled, gotten more devious at the corners. He’s perching his chin on his hands, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. 

Kageyama refuses to accept the bait. He shoves another bit of sashimi into his mouth. 

Then Hinata speaks. “You like sweet sushi, Kageyama?” the bumbling moron beside Kageyama says. “I never woulda guessed!”

Atsumu looks like he’s barely holding back laughter. 

“No,” Kageyama drawls.

“Huh? Then why...” Hinata glances between Kageyama and Atsumu, but it doesn’t seem to bring him any insight.

Kageyama just sinks lower in his chair, hunching over his meal, shoveling it in like he’s racing to finish it.

Kuroo is beside Atsumu. He watches the debacle with thinly disguised merriment, sipping sake. He holds up the little sake container, swinging it lightly between his fingers. “Anyone want some? What about you, Kageyama?” 

“We shouldn’t be drinking,” Hinata says around a mouthful of food. 

“Ah, a little taste won’t hurt,” Kuroo says.

Atsumu picks up the thread. “A little indulgence can be good for you. Might loosen you up a bit, Kageyama.”

“No,” Kageyama bites out.

“Oh come on,” Kuroo says. “It’s not the end of the world to just have a taste, especially if you’ve never had this kind of sake before.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Do you actually not want it,” Kuroo says, “or do you just not want to _admit_ you want it?”

Kuroo is watching him, his cheek against his fist, grinning like a cat. His narrow pupils are more feline than ever. Beside him, Atsumu lifts an eyebrow, amused by this sudden showdown.

Kageyama grounds his teeth together like he’s trying to break them. What are they after? They can’t possibly have guessed it all this quickly. Kageyama chooses to believe they’re just poking at him for fun or out of boredom or because they get some sort of twisted entertainment out of seeing how far they can push before inspiring actual violence. 

“I’ll try it.”

Kageyama snaps his gaze to Hinata at his side. Hinata reaches across the table, accepting the little cup of sake. He swirls it, gives it a sniff, then knocks the whole thing back in one gulp. 

“Not bad,” he says. 

He catches Kageyama still gaping at him. “What? It was just a little sip.” 

“That’s not...” 

Kageyama clenches his teeth rather than trying to explain whatever the fuck is going on here. It’s like they’re having four different conversations all at once. Hinata is, obviously, clueless. Kageyama is an inch from flipping the table and storming out. Atsumu seems curious but mostly confused. And Kuroo … If anyone at this table is a problem, it may well be Tetsuro Kuroo.

Kageyama stares him down, dares him to keep pushing. Fortunately, Kuroo does not. He doesn’t offer any more sake, doesn’t pester Kageyama for the remainder of the meal, just shrugs and moves on to smirking that feline smirk at someone else. 

The conversation shifts toward the team’s upcoming games. They have a tough schedule ahead of them, especially if they hang on long enough to meet Argentina somewhere down the line. It’ll be grueling, physically and mentally draining. They’ll have to eat, sleep and drink volleyball to have even a thin hope of getting toward the top.

Kageyama can’t wait.

This is what it’s all supposed to be about. Not Kuroo. Not Hinata. Not anyone or anything except volleyball, the one thing Kageyama is sure he does best.

“You two look like a dog with a bone,” Coach Hibarida says. 

Kageyama blinks and finds the rest of the team staring at him. Well, at him and Hinata, who’s beaming beside him. 

“The monster duo,” Coach Hibarida says. “Ready to show the world what you’ve got?” 

Kageyama just nods, but Hinata whoops loudly enough to draw eyes from throughout the restaurant. It’s embarrassing as all hell and yet … it kinda feels like old times, like those days in high school of setting to Hinata back when he didn’t even open his eyes to find the ball, just flew into the air, literally trusting Kageyama blindly. And Kageyama had delivered, over and over and over, until the two of them propelled Karasuno to multiple unlikely high finishes in tournaments. 

For a moment, Kageyama dares to hope they can do it again. The Olympics are just a bigger stage, but the game is the same, the goal is the same, _they_ are the same. 

Kageyama glances over at Hinata, who’s nearly leaping out of his chair now that the conversation has shifted to tactics and strategies. He’s flushed with excitement, the same flush Kageyama himself put into those cheeks only a couple hours earlier. The same flush Kageyama feels creeping up his own chest at the memory of how Hinata had looked under him, gasping, panting, tugging him closer, begging for more.

They are still the same, aren’t they?

#

The rest of the meal is blessedly uneventful. Kageyama even manages to eat most of his sushi.

The vans deliver them back to the hotel. Kageyama is feeling much more himself by the time he steps out. Despite Kuroo’s sly looks and Atsumu’s evident amusement, most of the dinner did manage to remain completely normal. Maybe he really can get through this. 

Hinata tugs on his sleeve. 

Kageyama nearly leaps out of his skin. 

“Sorry to startle you,” Hinata says. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes skittering around. 

“What?” Kageyama leaves the word intentionally sharp. 

“I, uh … I was wondering if we could talk.”

Kageyama’s blood drains from his face, leaving him cold. Still, he says, “Nothing to talk about.”

Hinata’s eyes stop darting around and fixate on Kageyama, pinning him in place. “Might be one thing to talk about.” 

He leaves it at that, but Kageyama’s stomach contorts itself into knots, threatening to expel the sushi he’d managed to eat. Even an idiot couldn’t mistake Hinata’s meaning right now. Some part of Kageyama is tempted to take him up on the offer, to put an end to this once and for all, stomp it out before it can become an even bigger problem. 

This is stupid, he decides. It’s ridiculous. It was one time! One time barely a few hours ago! They were just excited, hopped up on endorphins and adrenaline and the dizzying fact that they were really, truly, actually in the fucking Olympics right now. There is nothing to talk about, in Kageyama’s mind, but that clearly isn’t the case for Hinata. 

Fine. He just has to get this over with and then he can do what he came here to do.

Kageyama grabs Hinata’s arm and hauls him away. Most of the team is already back inside the hotel and those who aren’t are well ahead of Hinata and Kageyama. He believes he probably goes unremarked as he drags Hinata around the side of the building and into an empty fire lane. 

“Don’t,” Kageyama says before Hinata can even start. 

Kageyama can guess what Hinata’s about to say, the stupid things he wants to ask. This needs to get squashed before it has any chance to pick up steam.

“I’m here for volleyball,” Kageyama says. “Only volleyball.”

“I am too,” Hinata says. 

“Then there’s no need to say another word.” 

Kageyama tries to leave then, but Hinata catches his sleeve. He could break free, could easily jerk away and stomp off. But he doesn’t. 

“Hey, it doesn’t have to be...” Hinata says. “It could be OK, ya know?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Kageyama. We aren’t kids anymore. Can we just talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about.” 

Hinata is still clinging to his sleeve. Kageyama finally pulls free, folding his arms under his chest. 

“Forget it,” Kageyama says. “There’s nothing to discuss. Just forget the whole thing.”

Hinata grimaces like he’s tasting something bitter. He shifts his feet. “What if I don’t want to forget?” 

Kageyama feels frozen in place when Hinata looks back up at him. His face is as determined as when he’s bracing to receive a serve.

It’s a challenge. Hinata is calling his bluff, daring him to run, seeing right through excuses Kageyama hasn’t even offered yet. 

Kageyama has never been a quitter. 

He grabs Hinata by his collar and swings him around. Hinata issues a grunt when his back hits the side of the hotel. Kageyama chases it, pushing against Hinata’s lips quickly enough to swallow the sound down. 

He expects Hinata to be frozen with surprise, but he just clutches at Kageyama’s shirt and pulls him even closer. Kageyama feels light-headed from the lack of air as their lips battle, but he refuses to back down. 

Hinata shoves his tongue past Kageyama’s lips, licking the roof of his mouth, lighting up nerves Kageyama didn’t even know were waiting for that touch. Kageyama tastes cinnamon and sunlight, feels warmth seep down his throat like something molten is dripping out of Hinata’s mouth and into his. 

Kageyama says nothing, but when he finally breaks away, panting for breath, Hinata keeps a hold on his shirt and drags him toward the back of the hotel. 

He should resist. He should fight against that insistent tug. He should yank and squirm and fight until he’s free, should run and never look back, should escape the oncoming disaster while he still can. 

But he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This fic updates every two weeks on Thursday afternoons (PST).** There will be a few exceptions to accommodate events and theme weeks in October.
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata can't believe this is happening again. He's going to have to work quickly to get that D before Kageyama bolts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut chapter.

Hinata is a little surprised that Kageyama lets him pull him along, but it’s dangerous to question it, dangerous to stop moving, dangerous to break the mad spell that has seized them both again so quickly. 

It’s also dangerous to keep going. 

Hinata feels like he can’t stop, though, like this fire burning inside him can only be quenched by continuing down this reckless path. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe this is an actual fever. He certainly feels flushed and dizzy, his legs numb beneath him as he drags Kageyama down the fire lane beside the hotel. 

He doesn’t even know where he’s going. He just needs to get away from the street. He knows if there are any prying eyes about Kageyama will bolt, pliant as he feels just now. But they also won’t make it back up to their rooms. Too much distance, too much space in which to slow down and think. This needs to happen now or not at all. 

He can’t stomach the thought of it not happening. Hinata’s mouth goes dry at the very idea. No, this is happening. Somehow. Somewhere. If he can just...

There’s a little fenced in area behind the hotel that pens in a pool. But, importantly, not just a pool. Hinata remembers it from when they first arrived. There’s a structure beside the pool – a tent or something. It might be good enough. 

The gate in the fence is open when Hinata pushes at it. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not yet late, though the day has cooled off too much for swimming. The sun is still just barely struggling over the horizon, the sky slashed with red and purple. 

Hinata peeks in past the gate, scanning. All clear. The pool is empty. The beach chairs are unoccupied aside from a few stray towels swimmers left behind. And there, right in the corner, is the tent. 

It’s white and large and peaked, like there’s some underlying structure propping it up. Hinata pulls Kageyama toward it before finally releasing his hand. It’s terrifying to let go of him. Hinata is sure he’s going to run. It makes his fingers tremble and he fumbles the zipper, clumsy in his haste. Is the damn thing locked somehow? Maybe they secure it in some way so that people like him can’t do things like this. 

The zipper finally gives. Hinata huffs out a sigh. He drags the zipper up just far enough that he and Kageyama can duck inside, then pulls it right back down.

The interior of the tent is dark, so dark Hinata just stands there blinking for a moment. All he can make out are two massage tables at either side of a small open “room” and Kageyama himself, standing all too still between them. 

Oh god, did Hinata take too long? Did the zipper leave Kageyama too much time to rethink this? 

Hinata freezes, too afraid of that answer to do anything but wait. 

“Come here.” Kageyama’s voice is low and dark, a scratchy rasp in the gloom.

Hinata follows it. He feels drawn to it, despite the shiver of fear it sends down his spine. 

When he gets close, Kageyama grips him by the chin and tugs him to his mouth. Hinata murmurs from the pinch of that hand and the heat of those lips. He suddenly feels foolish for thinking Kageyama was going to run. 

Kageyama starts backing him up, even while keeping their lips tangled. Hinata hits the edge of a massage table, but Kageyama just keeps coming, until their bodies are leaning against each other, forced closer by the table. 

Their clothes suddenly seem an outrageous impediment. Hinata keeps kissing at Kageyama, but tugs his own shirt off over his head, breaking their contact for a moment. Kageyama’s eyes roam up and down Hinata’s bare chest. His lips are parted, swollen, rosy. Hinata aches to taste them again, but Kageyama recovers enough to strip off his own shirt.

After that, he doesn’t give Hinata time for anything else. 

Kageyama gets his hands under Hinata’s thighs and hitches him up onto the table. Hinata thinks maybe he’s about to climb up too, but Kageyama stays on the ground and starts undoing Hinata’s pants, sliding them down before tossing them aside. 

“K-Kageyama,” Hinata gasps as the boxers go too. 

Suddenly, he’s naked, sitting right there completely exposed. The tent abruptly feels flimsy, transparent. Hinata scans it, though it’s dark around him. Part of him is searching for holes, for eyes. Has Kageyama’s paranoia managed to infect him too? 

If it has, he doesn’t have time to ponder it. Kageyama dives between Hinata’s legs, angling Hinata’s cock into his mouth.

Hinata gasps at the suddenness of it, the eagerness. Kageyama is bobbing up and down him before Hinata even knows what’s happening. Not that he’s keen to stop it once he does gather himself. Kageyama is sucking him like he’s on a timer. And maybe he is, maybe they both are, maybe this stolen moment is one too many. They’ve already stolen that frantic moment before dinner and now here they are again, having paused only to eat before they’re right back at it. 

It makes Hinata dizzy, and not simply because Kageyama’s lips are tight around his cock and gliding up and down. 

He puts a hand behind himself to brace, but Hinata’s free hand finds Kageyama’s hair, fingers threading through it. He only just resists guiding Kageyama’s head faster up and down him. 

Kageyama is doing a fine job of that all on his own. He’s working fast, almost too fast, using not just his lips but also his tongue. He licks along Hinata’s cock as he plunges down it again. Kageyama gets a hand around the base, giving Hinata a squeeze. 

Hinata’s hand tightens reflexively. Kageyama murmurs around him, a dark, low noise that rumbles through Hinata’s belly, sends tingles up his gut and into his throat. He can’t help whining in response, as though he’s begging for more. Perhaps he is. 

Has Kageyama even done this before? Hinata had assumed no, but that mouth slurping up his cock argues to the contrary. Maybe he’s just a natural at sucking dick, but Hinata doubts it. This performance would be freakish even for Kageyama. 

In fact, it’s got Hinata feeling like he could burst any second. His legs tremble as they dangle off the edge of the table. The hand bracing behind him is gripping the massage table like he’s trying to break it. The whole structure is quivering along with him, just as rattled by Kageyama’s machinations as Hinata himself is. 

He feels it boiling in his gut, traveling lower, threatening to rip him apart at the seams. He’s probably tugging Kageyama’s hair too hard now, but the whole world is rocking around him and Hinata is desperate for the stability. 

“K-Kage--” He can’t manage the whole name. He has to warn him somehow, but all that squeezes out of his throat is more moans.

When Hinata forces his eyes open, he finds Kageyama looking right up at him, Hinata’s cock still in his mouth, a challenge blazing in those dark eyes. 

That look snatches the breath right out of Hinata’s lungs. 

The heat of those eyes shoots through him. He has only an instant in which to grit out a curse before the boiling warmth within him surges out--

And right into Kageyama’s mouth. 

Kageyama makes a startled noise, but does not release his lips from around Hinata’s cock, apparently resolving to drink him down. Hinata gapes, unable to control the shivering wracking his body as he empties utterly. It feels like it bursts out of him so hard that it must hit the back of Kageyama’s throat, but Kageyama doesn’t back off, not until Hinata is completely spent. 

Hinata lays back on the massage table when Kageyama eases away. Hinata is trembling, covered in sweat, depleted and light. He feels like he could float up off the table and drift away into the night. Everything that’s happened since they stepped off that bus is a blur, a whirlwind. It wasn’t supposed to happen once – now it’s occurred a second time and barely a few hours after the first. 

Fears prickles over Hinata’s sweat-slick skin, a wave of fear at the impossibility and danger of whatever’s going on here. It’s completely out of their control and while Hinata can deal with that, he doubts Kageyama will be as easy-going about whatever wild fever has seized them both. 

Hinata manages to sit up. Kageyama is pacing like a cat, wiping at his mouth. When he notices Hinata, he stops, glaring at him through the dark. No, “glaring” would be far too simple a word. There’s more there than anger.

Hinata slips off the table, striding up to Kageyama and falling to his knees before the moment can pass. 

Kageyama doesn’t help Hinata with his pants, but he also doesn’t stop him. He’s hard when Hinata pulls down his jeans. Kageyama hisses a groan between his teeth as Hinata starts stroking him. 

Maybe they’ve both lost their minds, but the madness feels so good Hinata never wants it to stop. 

Kageyama issues a grunt of surprise when Hinata squeezes him tight around the base. 

“You didn’t think I wasn’t going to return the favor, did you?” 

Hinata doesn’t actually want to hear the answer, he just wants to see the flush rise in Kageyama’s cheeks as his words brush over Kageyama’s cock. 

It works, but Hinata only lets himself enjoy it for a heartbeat before getting his mouth on Kageyama. He’d meant the jab as a mere joke – Hinata doesn’t think Kageyama was actually pacing around just to wait for Hinata to do this – but when Kageyama yanks on Hinata’s hair, forcing his head up and down more forcefully, he thinks perhaps he was wrong. God, could that really be? Was Kageyama restless with _desire_ and not worry or fear or annoyance? 

The mere idea has Hinata moaning around Kageyama’s cock, which is filling his mouth wonderfully as Kageyama guides him up and down it. It nearly hits the back of his throat when Kageyama shoves him down. Kageyama’s lucky Hinata knows enough to breathe around it and just enjoy the sensation of fullness rather than choke … not that choking isn’t an enticing idea in and of itself.

Hinata hums at the idea, and to send the shivers of his voice up into Kageyama’s gut. He knows it affects Kageyama. He can feel it from the hand in his hair and the cock in his mouth. It’s almost _too_ easy to get these reactions out of Kageyama. For all his coldness and aloofness, he’s remarkably transparent when in the right mood. 

Kageyama thrusts into Hinata’s mouth with an urgency now. He must be getting close. Hinata clings to his hip and tightens his lips, squeezes a little harder, darts out his tongue to flick at Kageyama and give him those last bright bursts of sensation that will send him reeling. 

He does, gasping, trying to pull away, but Hinata holds onto that hip and keeps him close. Hinata swallows the warmth spurting into his mouth. It’s only fair, right? 

Only when Kageyama is completely spent does Hinata let him retreat, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s surprised at how _good_ it tastes dripping down his throat. It’s not the first time he’s had cum in his mouth, but it’s usually a neutral or merely tolerable sort of thing, just part of the process but not exactly the highlight. 

There’s something about it being Kageyama that makes Hinata hungry for more, literally hungry. His stomach churns. His mouth waters. He runs his tongue around, searching for anything that might be lingering. There’s a distinctly _Kageyama_ taste loitering in his senses, making him light-headed. 

Kageyama sits on the ground with Hinata, trying to catch his breath. He flops back, lying flat, putting his arm over his eyes. Hinata trails his fingers lightly over Kageyama’s bare skin, tracing up a thigh, along a hip, around the soft places between all that lean muscle he’s built up over the years. Gooseflesh ripples out, chasing his fingertips. Still, Kageyama doesn’t pull away. In fact, his breathing calms, shallows, until it’s back to normal and he’s just lying there apparently enjoying the touch. 

“What are we gonna do?” Kageyama says. 

Hinata frowns. His fingers still. 

Kageyama removes his arm from over his eyes and pushes up to sit. They’re both naked, but that’s not why Hinata suddenly feels cold. 

“This can’t keep happening,” Kageyama says. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s a distraction.” 

Hinata’s stomach sours. He’s almost queasy. He didn’t think they’d be right back to this conversation the second the moment passed, but of course they are, of course Kageyama can’t just let this be a good thing. 

It’s not that Kageyama is wrong, exactly. It certainly will be a distraction if they can’t keep their hands off each other during the Olympics, but won’t it be more distracting if they’re sneaking around to do it? Won’t it take more energy to hide than simply to fuck like they want to? 

Hinata suspects that argument isn’t going to get him very far. This is Kageyama. He isn’t a complicated creature. It’s volleyball first, everything else second. Maybe if Hinata can speak to him in his language … maybe then Hinata won’t have to give up one thing he wants for the other... 

“What if...” Hinata tries. 

Kageyama watches him. Is that hope? Is Kageyama rooting for a plan he can get behind to come out of Hinata’s mouth? That only makes Hinata want more desperately to be about to say the right thing. 

“What if we just see how practice goes?” Hinata says. “Tomorrow. The next day. What if we just … just chill for a couple days? And if practice goes OK then maybe … maybe this isn’t such a terrible distraction.” 

He knows he sounds desperate. He’s leaning toward Kageyama, trying to press the point physically to get Kageyama to agree, but Kageyama just sits there looking as blank as ever. 

Finally, he speaks. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

Hinata startles. Wait, does Kageyama think it won’t be possible? Does he think he’ll be too distracted to play? _The_ Kageyama, too distracted to play? 

“I do,” Hinata says. It has to be true. He’ll _make_ it true. He’ll go through practice tomorrow like nothing at all has changed. He’ll focus all of his energy on volleyball and on keeping the weirdness at bay. 

“We can do this,” Hinata says. “We love volleyball too much not to.”

Kageyama seems to consider this for a moment, to roll it around in his mouth. Hinata feels the heat rekindling even from observing this simple action. There’s something about the look in those dark eyes, that faraway, unfocused look, that makes Hinata want to call out, bring him back, have those eyes focused on him again. 

When Kageyama looks back at Hinata, Hinata has to bite back a gasp. Kageyama leans forward, slipping a hand along Hinata’s jaw, kissing him, tugging at his lip. It’s brusque and abrupt, but no less enticing for all that.

Kageyama backs away, but only just far enough to speak. “Fine,” he says. 

That’s it. That’s all Hinata gets before Kageyama is standing again, shrugging back into his clothing, barely regarding Hinata as he goes about reassembling himself. He even unzips the tent and peeks out. Apparently, all’s clear beyond it. Kageyama glances over his shoulder, gives Hinata a nod and leaves. 

Hinata is left sitting in the empty tent, touching his lips, more confused by that farewell kiss than by anything that came before it. A reckless hope seizes his chest, the hope that Kageyama might actually give him a chance to prove himself, might actually give _this_ a chance. 

Hinata scrambles to get dressed, even fixing the messy massage table. By the time he leaves the tent, he’s confident it looks exactly the same as when they’d entered it. No one should be the wiser by the next day. 

When he turns, he faces the hotel. It’s much darker now. Lights glow in many of the windows facing him. Shadows move about in the rooms. Perhaps his own teammates; perhaps opponents he’s about to face. 

Right now, they all kind of feel like opponents.

As long as no one knows, as long as they keep playing volleyball the way they know they can, maybe Hinata can have everything the 2021 Olympics has to offer. Maybe he can even have Kageyama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This fic updates every two weeks on Thursday afternoons (PST).** There will be a few exceptions to accommodate events and theme weeks in October.
> 
>  **Next update:** It's time for practice. Kageyama is definitely not distracted... definitely... 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama goes to practice. It's totally gonna be a normal practice. A completely normal practice. No pining. No looking at Hinata's butt. No wondering what it'd be like to wake up next him...

Kageyama huffs out a breath when he enters the gym. 

Running before the sun rose cleared his head, left him feeling calm and clean, centered. All through breakfast, he’d managed to keep his mind focused, his thoughts only on volleyball. Even when Hinata stumbled downstairs, bleary and yawning when he finally joined the team, it had barely even made Kageyama pause with a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth wondering how someone could look so good straight out of bed. 

Barely. 

He’d managed to finish his meal, only occasionally looking up at the sleepy rosiness in Hinata’s cheeks and idly wondering what it’d be like to wake up next to all that sunshine. 

And now he is in the gym, huffing out a breath, trying to settle his thoughts, to quiet the flutter in his chest. 

Kageyama eases into his warm-up routine. It’s easy and familiar. It gets his blood moving in a way that’s useful and not just frantic and confusing. 

He settles into his body. He feels good. Great, honestly. Once he got back to his room last night he expected to toss and turn, kept awake by turbulent thoughts, but Kageyama found that once he lay in bed he quickly slipped into a deep, dreamless, contented sleep. 

Getting laid twice in a single day was apparently good for his sleep schedule. 

_Stop it,_ Kageyama chides himself. 

It had been an … interesting day. An unexpected day. But it was over. And as Hinata said yesterday, they need to focus on practice now. Kageyama is sure he can stay focused. He’s not going to let something as frivolous as sex distract him – and he’s certainly not going to let Hinata out-play him because of it.

The rest of the team is warming up around him now. They all have their own little routines and rituals and Coach Hibarida hasn’t seen fit to disrupt those for the Olympics. He’s been allowing them to get started on their own before calling them all together for drills and practice shots. 

Atsumu is leading the drills, counting for the whole group. Everyone is going through the same motions, but Kageyama can swear Atsumu is side eyeing him the whole time. 

Kageyama rolls his eyes and ignores it. At least Kuroo isn’t also here to smirk at him today. Why had he even thought to join the team for dinner last night? He worked in the marketing department now. He better not think he can skulk around bothering the players whenever he feels like it. Knowing Kuroo, however, he’ll disappear for a few days only to reappear at the most inconvenient possible time. 

The drills finally end. The team moves on to some simple receives. Finally, something Kageyama can put his whole body and mind into, a means of disregarding all the pointless noise around him. 

“Kageyama,” Coach Hibarida says, “work with Hinata. I want you two to get in sync with each other.”

“No problem,” Hinata says. Chirps, almost. Like it’s nothing. Like this is totally fine and nothing at all. 

Kageyama won’t lose. He nods and he and Hinata head onto the court, standing on opposite sides of the net. 

It feels more natural this way, facing each other across a net rather than standing on the same side of it. It’s easier. Safer. Kageyama is almost steady as he serves it over the net. Hinata receives the serve, sending it right back. 

So clean. When did his receives get so good? 

Kageyama shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but he is. Hinata basically disappeared after high school, only to reappear dramatically improved in every damn metric. 

Kageyama tries a harder serve. He should warm up more before shit like this, but having Hinata on the other side of the net does something to him, something he can’t quite stuff away. It makes him want to try harder, play better, outdo himself somehow. It’s always been like this, even before … whatever is happening now.

Hinata just grins and sends the ball back. It’s not perfect, but it’s not far off, either. 

Kageyama finds himself smirking right back as Hinata’s grin spreads. Smiley little shit. Kageyama winds up for a jump serve, smashing it over the net. He should be aiming at Hinata but he purposely sends it longer. Hinata has to stumble back, just barely getting under the ball. He falls backward, but still manages to get the ball, and now it’s Kageyama running and lunging.

He sends it back. This isn’t part of the drill, but he does it anyway. And Hinata responds. 

They’re going back and forth, pushing well beyond the stipulations of what should be a simple warm-up drill. Kageyama is vaguely aware of their teammates – and Coach Hibarida – watching them, but he’s too far gone now, too caught up in the game. He refuses to back down, refuses to lose. His blood is thrumming, his whole body alert and warm in a way it only is during the act of playing volleyball. 

Hinata isn’t exactly discouraging him. 

They keep hitting the ball at each other – not “to,” not anymore. It’s “at” now. 

The ball comes at Kageyama, forcing him to send it back awkwardly. It’s high and close to the next. 

_Shit._

Kageyama sprints for the net. He’s set Hinata up way too well and they both know it. Hinata is licking his lips, crouching as he runs, winding up to jump. Kageyama doesn’t know if he’ll make it in time. Hinata is still as freakishly fast as he’s always been, if not more. His eyes are locked on the ball, his arms are going back, his feet are planting for the jump.

Kageyama jumps a moment before Hinata does, raising his hands. Hinata follows, leaping up, arm cocked back.

Their eyes meet mid-air. Hinata looks right at him, joy clear on his face. Kageyama tries to follow those bright eyes, to figure out where Hinata is aiming, but they just keep looking straight at him. 

Hinata spikes. Kageyama feels the ball against his fingers. For a moment he thinks he managed to catch it – then it blows past his hands, striking the court with a smack. 

Kageyama whirls when he returns to the ground. The whole team is watching them, some with raised eyebrows, some with open-mouthed amazement. 

He turns back to the net, unable to face all those stares after he’s so obviously lost. Hinata’s grin has only gotten toothier. His hands are on his hips. 

“Gotcha,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama grits his teeth. Everything in him wants to reach under the net and drag Hinata closer. The terrifying part is that he isn’t sure why. To shake him? To kiss him? Kageyama isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Coach Hibarida says. “That was quite a display but let’s play with the rest of the team too, huh?” 

Hinata flushes and stammers an apology. Kageyama just nods and turns away. 

It was way too easy for him to get caught up again, sucked into Hinata’s magnetic energy. What is it with that fucking guy? Why is Kageyama helpless to respond every time Hinata is around? Whether it’s anger or excitement or lust or some heady mixture of all three, Kageyama can’t seem to keep himself together whenever Hinata is present.

He almost forgot about it after high school. It was easy to write off his time with Karasuno as the folly of youth. Then they’d gone their separate ways, played on separate teams, and Kageyama had shrugged it all off. 

Now, it’s back with such force it makes Kageyama light-headed. It might as well be the day after they graduated for how little has changed in all this time. 

Kageyama shakes himself. _Focus. Focus on the practice. Focus on the work at hand._

He falls into the rest of the drills, staying as far from Hinata as he can. It’s a little easier when they start setting for the spikers. He and Atsumu set from the net, putting up easy hits for their teammates. Even when Hinata cycles through, it barely matters. _Just another spiker,_ Kageyama tells himself. _No different than any of the others._

“Kageyama, Hinata,” Coach Hibarida calls. He pulls them aside while Atsumu keeps setting for the rest of the team. 

“I want you two to practice that quick on your own,” Coach says. “I know you can both do it, but it’s been a while. Your timing isn’t going to be as clean as it used to be. We need that attack. It’s going to be one of our strongest weapons.”

“Sure!” Hinata says. 

He sounds so god damn excited about it. Kageyama hates it.

“Fine,” Kageyama says.

“Good,” Coach says. “Get it done.”

They both nod and Coach Hibarida motions them along. 

“This way,” Hinata says, waving for Kageyama to follow him. 

They use the extra net. The practice gyms for each team are massive and outfitted with all the equipment they could possibly need, including an entire extra court for practicing. 

It feels isolated, even though they’re only steps away from the rest of the team working at the main court. Kageyama feels the strangeness creeping up his throat like a choking hand and tries to swallow it down. It’s somehow quieter over here. The court is far closer and smaller than it should be with just him and Hinata on it. It’s like it’s closing in around him, pressing in, forcing him nearer and nearer to Hinata. 

For his part, Hinata either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. How is he handling this so well? He’s limbering up, stretching his legs, swinging his arms like he doesn’t have a single care in the world outside of volleyball. 

There’s something to that simplicity. Kageyama used to feel the same. At least before the mess he’d started himself the previous day. God, why did he let this get so … fucked? 

He drags in a steadying breath, letting it out slowly. 

“Alright, you ready?” Kageyama says.

“Hell yeah,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama has to clench his teeth when Hinata turns those eager eyes on him. “Fine,” he grits. 

He tosses the ball up for himself, giving Hinata the cue to start running. Kageyama sets it, but he’s behind. Hinata is so damn fast that he goes _past_ the set, making the spike awkward and clumsy. 

On the next toss, Kageyama tries to adjust, but it seems like Hinata has the same idea. Now they’re both behind. Their quick attack is getting slower with every toss. 

“This isn’t working,” Kageyama says.

“Just set it like you used to,” Hinata says.

“That was years ago.”

Hinata shrugs as though the years make no difference at all to him. Perhaps they don’t.

“Just be in the right place at the right time,” Kageyama says. 

“You got it.” 

Is he being flippant? Kageyama isn’t sure, but it irritates him either way.

He tosses up another set. It’s a little better. He places the ball a little farther than he thought he should and sure enough, Hinata gets there, but it’s too low. 

Kageyama only feels more frustrated as the practice goes on. It shouldn’t be taking this much effort to adjust to a spiker. It’s something Kageyama usually does intuitively, without even really trying. Maybe Hinata is just messing with him, trying to get him to screw up and trip over himself.

Some part of him knows that isn’t the case. In his hotel room, in that massage tent, Hinata was absolutely earnest in his desire to make this all work somehow. That’s sounding less and less plausible as practice drags on and the quick attack gets only marginally less sloppy, though. 

_We can do this,_ Kageyama thinks. _No, I can do this._ It doesn’t actually matter what Hinata is thinking or feeling, why he’s off. The set is Kageyama’s job. It’s on him to get this right – no matter what. 

Finally a set goes right. Kageyama can feel it the moment the ball leaves his hands. Sure enough, he’s rewarded with the smack of the ball hitting the other side of the net and a whoop from Hinata as he lands. 

“Not bad.”

Kageyama jerks at the sound of the coach’s voice.

“But it took you a while to get there,” Coach Hibarida says. “You need to be better than that if we’re going to beat teams like Argentina.” 

“Yes, Coach,” Kageyama says. He’s grinding his teeth, trying not to show it, willing his hands not to ball up into fists. 

In truth, the coach is being gentle. It took _way_ too long for them to find the timing on that attack. They don’t need to just be better – they need to be a lot better, and soon. 

Hinata slaps Kageyama’s shoulder. “Hey, we got this, right, Kageyama?”

Kageyama twists his lips into a frown and doesn’t respond. The feel of Hinata’s hand lingers on his shoulder like a phantom. 

The coach is saying something, but Kageyama can’t hear him through the pounding in his hears. They just have to get through practice. That’s what they said last night. They just have to prove they can get through practice. They have to “chill” and see how it goes. 

How it’s going is poorly, in Kageyama’s estimation. How it’s going is disastrously. He’s throwing away everything to get his dick wet and it’s a fucking waste of time.

Coach and Hinata might still be talking, but Kageyama doesn’t hear them. He stomps away, finally letting his hands ball into fists as he leaves the courts behind.

He’s sure they’re talking about him. He’s sure they’re watching him storm off muttering to himself. Kageyama knows he’ll hear about it later – and that he’ll deserve it – but right now he can’t quite manage to care. He just needs to get away from all of it for a minute and think clearly. 

He wants to run outside, but he manages to at least remain in the practice facility. He can say he wasn’t feeling well or something if he doesn’t outright disappear. 

Still, he barely sees the halls and the people in them as he makes his way to the locker room. Kageyama shoves the door open and rushes inside. 

Instantly, the quiet washes over him. It’s empty here. No one around. There’s no sign of people aside from some discarded sneakers, a couple used towels near the showers and an athletic bag left forgotton on the tiles. 

Kageyama makes it to the bench running between the red lockers affixed to either wall. He slouches down, putting his head in his hands, just trying to breathe and settle the chaos in his head. 

The blood in his ears quiets, but it’s a slow, arduous process. His own breaths are loud, his chest tight. But it’s all easing up somewhat now that he’s alone. 

He can’t do this. He thought he could. He hoped he could. But clearly it’s not going to happen. 

That doesn’t mean he has a damn clue what to do about it. Clearly, his body is dead set on making its demands known. How is he going to practice with Hinata day after day? How is he going to play at the top of his game when the matches start up? 

The worst part is how god damn _ridiculous_ the whole thing is. He wishes he could just jerk off and be done with it. It’s worked well enough in the past. But this is something else, something persistent and pernicious, like weeds are growing inside his head. Pulling them out solves the problem for an hour or a day or a week, but they just keep growing back, stronger every time. 

He needs a better solution – soon. Before he can ruin this not just for himself, but for his entire team.

Maybe he should leave. They’d still have Atsumu. He’s a fine setter. He and Hinata are even on the same pro team nowadays.

It hurts even to consider that as a solution.

Kageyama hunches forward, holding his head in his hands. He just needs a few minutes, a few deep breaths, and he can go back out there. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he’s just frustrated over nothing. Maybe--

He jerks upright when he hears rasping breaths coming from the showers. Kageyama freezes, his own breath caught in his chest as he strains his ears. 

The noises rapidly become more audible.

It starts with those soft gasps and escalates to full on moans. There’s no mistaking the noises now. It’s two voices and one of those is shooting up in both volume and pitch.

It gets worse.

So much fucking worse.

“You want me to ride you, daddy?”

“Mmm yeah.”

“Do you think you’ve earned that?”

“I don’t know, have I?”

“Get on your knees and figure it out yourself.”

Kageyama’s eyes go so wide they could pop out of his head. He’s still frozen, trapped on that bench, not daring to move and potentially make a sound. Still, every ounce of him wants to flee, especially when the voices are accompanied by wet sucking noises. 

“You really do want it, you filthy little slut.” 

“Mmm.”

“You’re such a dirty whore, do you know that? Absolutely disgusting.” 

That’s too much for Kageyama. He stumbles to his feet and flees the locker room as quietly as he can, but between the sound effects and the words, he’s flushed and trembling by the time he makes it back out into the hall.

Kageyama leans against the wall, trying to steady his breaths, trying to make sense of the strangest damn practice he’s ever gone to. 

“Kageyama?” 

It’s Hinata. Of course it is. 

Kageyama gives up, huffing out a sigh. This day just isn’t going to let up, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every two weeks.
> 
>  **Next time:** Hinata chases after Kageyama and they try to figure out just what is going on in that locker room... 
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata tries to keep practicing after Kageyama storms off the court, but eventually he needs to chase after him. They can totally work this out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has some overlap with the previous chapter, but from from Hinata's POV.

“This isn’t working,” Kageyama says.

“Just set it like you used to,” Hinata says.

“That was years ago.”

Hinata shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. Playing volleyball today has been natural and easy, just the way it’s supposed to be. At least for him.

Clearly, the same isn’t true for Kageyama. 

Since the moment they left that massage tent last night, it was clear Kageyama was off and would stay off. Hinata tried to ignore it during practice today, for his own sake as much as Kageyama’s, but the quick attack drill is revealing just how _wrong_ everything is right now. 

“Just be in the right place at the right time,” Kageyama says. 

“You got it.” 

Hinata tries to keep his tone light and casual. Kageyama probably takes it as some kind of slight. Hinata can tell by his setting, even though the next round goes a little better than the previous ones. In fact, it goes perfectly. Hinata soars into the air and the ball slides into place just at the apex of his jump. He slams it down on the other side of the net, holding in a whoop when he lands. 

“Not bad.”

Kageyama jerks at the sound of the couch’s voice and Hinata struggles not to scowl. Kageyama is like a startled cat today; every little sound and disturbance seems like enough to send him scrambling.

“But it took you a while to get there,” Coach Hibarida says. “You need to be better than that if we’re going to beat teams like Argentina.” 

“Yes, Coach,” Kageyama says. 

Hinata can practically hear him grinding his teeth. He should be annoyed, but all he really feels is guilty. He didn’t mean to upend Kageyama’s whole world. It was just the heat of the moment … well, the heat of two moments. But even so, they’re adults now, Olympic athletes. They should be able to handle this and, honestly, Hinata believes he can. He, at least, can still practice at his best. He can still eat without sneaking scorching little looks across the table. He can still shake off the dreams lingering at the fringes of his memory the next morning. 

Hinata slaps Kageyama’s shoulder. “Hey, we got this, right, Kageyama?”

Kageyama doesn’t respond. Maybe that was too much. It seems like everything Hinata does is too much or too little, though. 

Coach Hibarida delves into strategy. What happens if the quick works? If it doesn’t? How long should they keep it in their pocket before revealing that particular weapon to opponents? 

Hinata is so enthralled by the details that he barely notices that Kageyama has gone utterly silent. Maybe he’s just thinking really hard.

“It won’t be surprising forever,” Coach Hibarida says. “The sooner we break it out, the sooner it becomes old news.”

“That’s true,” Hinata says, “but me and Kageyama’s quick attack is still going to be different from anyone else’s. Even if they know it’s coming, they’ve probably never dealt with us before.”

“That’s a good point,” Coach says. “Still, this is just one weapon among many. We aren’t going to pin all our hopes on it. Our first few chances will be critical, however. We need to scare our opponents the first time they see it. Then you can work on distracting them.”

“Like a decoy,” Hinata says. 

“Exactly. That will be just as important as actually scoring in your case.”

“No problem, Coach. I’ve been--”

Kageyama leaves. Hinata isn’t sure what he could have said, but all of a sudden Kageyama is moving, storming away like the discussion on tactics was a major insult of some sort. All Hinata can do is blink and watch as Kageyama stomps off the court and toward the locker rooms. 

Coach Hibarida is looking less than pleased. His lips are pressed into a tight line. His hand tightens around his notebook, threatening to tear the paper. He narrows his eyes as he stares after Kageyama.

Hinata panics. Whatever has possessed Kageyama in this moment, it is endangering his place in the Olympics. 

“He’s probably not feeling well,” Hinata says. “He didn’t eat much at breakfast. I’ll go figure it out.” 

“No,” Coach Hibarida says. 

The harshness and coldness of that single word drops a stone into Hinata’s stomach. The coach is absolutely right to be angry, but it terrifies Hinata to watch one of the best players he’s ever known burn his chance at performing at the highest level of competition. That’s not what Kageyama wants. Hinata is sure that Kageyama wants to play. He just needs to get over … whatever this is. 

Hinata takes a couple steps after him, but Coach Hibarida stops him with a hand to his shoulder. 

“If he wants to pout, let him pout,” Coach says. “I want you to finish drills with the team.”

“But Coach,” Hinata says, “I’m sure he’s just not feeling well or something. I can go talk to him. He’ll come back. I’m positive.” 

The hard planes of Coach’s face soften. “Spiking drills. Then you can go.”

It’s a deal, a bargain, and Hinata eagerly accepts it. He trots off to join the team for spiking drills, falling into the rotation of hitters leaping up for Atsumu’s sets. Now he’s the one who’s off, a step behind on every jump. He’s the one whose mind is elsewhere when it should be here, on the court, 100% focused. He just can’t stomach the thought that he’s costing Kageyama his dream. Hinata truly didn’t think a hookup could be that momentous, but clearly for Kageyama it is. 

Cruelly, some part of him hopes it effects Kageyama so much because it’s not just a hookup.

Hinata shakes himself. That’s a dangerous line of thought. A very dangerous line of thought. So dangerous it almost causes him to trip over his own feet as he goes up for another spike. He manages to get there in time, but his jump is lower than usual and it’s embarrassing to be so obviously off in front of the whole team. He’s still “too short” for volleyball and that has him feeling like he’s constantly proving he belongs here. There’s no space for a botched jump, even in practice.

He gets through the drill. Coach calls for a short break before they move to the next task. As he does, he gives Hinata a subtle nod, freeing him at last to go chase after Kageyama.

Is that what it is? After all this time, is he still just hopelessly chasing his greatest rival? 

Hinata tries not to think too hard about that as he makes for the locker rooms. 

The halls are quiet. Hinata passes a trainer here and a manager there, but for the most part he is alone. 

That stone in his stomach gets heavier as he goes. His gut twists around it. He realizes he isn’t quite sure what he’ll find when he reaches Kageyama – or if he wants to find it. It feels like a cliff edge is approaching, a sudden, dramatic end. Whether that’s the end to this frantic fling or the end of volleyball, Hinata doesn’t know. He isn’t sure which idea scares him more.

He finds Kageyama in the hallway right outside the team’s locker room, leaning against the wall like he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Kageyama?”

Kageyama jerks his head up like Hinata is the very last person in the whole world he wants to see right now. He huffs out a sigh. “What?”

Hinata takes a cautious step closer. “What are you doing here? Why did you leave practice?”

Kageyama crosses his arms over his chest. “Needed to clear my head. That a problem?”

“No,” Hinata says, “but Coach isn’t too happy.”

Kageyama mutters, lips twisting into a frown.

“He didn’t even really want me to come find you,” Hinata says. “I told him you probably just weren’t feeling well.” 

More mumbling. Hinata can practically see Kageyama folding in on himself, getting smaller and more armored with each passing second, like a turtle retreating into its shell. 

“If you tell Coach your stomach isn’t feeling right, I’ll back you up,” Hinata says. “I don’t want this to be weird. I just want to play volleyball with you, Kageyama.”

That draws a baleful look, but it isn’t nearly as threatening as Kageyama probably hopes it is.

“That’s _all_ you want?” Kageyama says. His voice drips with sarcasm.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “OK, fine, not _all_ , but you know what I mean. And if I can only pick one, I pick volleyball.”

That deflates some of Kageyama’s anger. His arms ease up just a bit.

“I pick volleyball, too.”

“I know.” Hinata keeps his voice soft, stepping closer like he’s approaching a wary bird ready to flit away. “That’s why I’ll do whatever it takes for us to have that.”

“We didn’t even make it through one practice. This is ridiculous.”

“Hey, speak for yourself. I was fine.”

“Right,” Kageyama drawls. “That’s why your jumps were off.”

“They weren’t off,” Hinata says. “Your sets were just too fast.”

“It’s a quick attack. It’s supposed to be fast.”

The banter is almost too easy to slip into, almost outright nostalgic. Hinata can tell Kageyama is relaxing as they go on debating whose fault those botched spikes were. He’s being a mean bastard about sets that were definitely his fault, but that’s so purely _Kageyama_ that it comes as a relief. 

Then he stops. Freezes like dog caught stealing from the dinner table. 

Hinata soon hears why.

There are sounds coming from the locker room. At first, Hinata thinks someone might be hurt. Then he realizes that it’s something very, very different. 

A high-pitched whine comes across clearly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck _fuuuuck_.”

Hinata’s eyes fly wide. Kageyama looks like he’s clenching his teeth again. They both stutter away from the locker room, silently agreeing to back away far enough down the hall that the sounds fade. Even with added distance, however, Hinata can still hear soft murmurs. Whoever is in there is _loud,_ but at least Hinata can’t make out individual words anymore.

“What...” Hinata can’t even bring himself to form the rest of the question.

Kageyama is both pale and flushed. “That’s … why you found me outside.”

“Wait, you mean, you heard them in there? In the locker room?”

Kageyama nods miserably. “Whole sentences.”

“What did they say?”

Kageyama shivers and shakes his head. That only makes Hinata more curious. What could have been said that was so horrible Kageyama won’t even repeat it? Part of Hinata really wants to goad Kageyama into saying it, especially if it was really that horrible and filthy. Hearing that come out of Kageyama’s mouth, all dark and low and scratchy...

Hinata swallows. 

He tries an easier question. “Who was it?”

“No idea,” Kageyama says.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No, thank god.”

Hinata rubs a finger over his lips. “Well, it can’t be anyone on the team. They’re all out on the court. It would be really obvious if they were gone. The coaches and everyone are out there too. I guess some of the trainers and stuff have access to the locker rooms.”

“Please,” Kageyama groans. “I don’t want to know.”

Hinata is only getting more curious by the moment, though. “It would be pretty unprofessional if it was a trainer. So it’s gotta be someone who both has access to that area and is willing to use it for … for that.”

Kageyama massages his forehead. “I don’t care. I really don’t care.” 

Hinata wants to push. He wants so badly to push. He wants to sneak into the locker room right now and end the mystery. He’d always heard the Olympics could get the blood boiling, that Olympic Villages tended to become … “friendly,” but he’d never really believed it until now. Whomever is in that locker room isn’t a player but is caught up in the fever of this whole place anyhow. And they’re incredibly brazen, willing to risk a lot for that lay. Hinata hopes it’s worth it – and god how he wants to confirm whether or not it is. 

He has to clench his fists to keep from running back for the locker room. It’s far, far too tempting, but Kageyama nearly looks ill from the ordeal. He’s already run away from practice today; one more push will probably send him spiraling out of reach. 

Hinata takes a deep breath. Whomever is being this bold will probably do it again; he’ll have another chance. Hopefully.

For now...

“Let’s get back to practice,” Hinata says. “It’s gotta be better than staying here.”

“I can’t,” Kageyama grumbles at the floor.

“Say your stomach is upset. It’s not even completely untrue, right?”

Kageyama scowls, even as he nods. 

“Then it’s settled,” Hinata says. “We’ll head back, return to practice and try to forget all about--” He waves toward the locker room. “That.” 

Kageyama finally looks up at him. “I’ve missed too much. I’ve wasted half the day already. We’re behind.”

“I know,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama is wavering. Hinata knows he won’t forgive himself for being off even for a few hours. It’ll put him on edge for the rest of the day, maybe longer. Hinata can’t let that stand. 

“Hey,” Hinata says, “what if we snuck back in here for a little night practice?”

Kageyama doesn’t respond, but hope lifts his gaze. 

“Clearly it’s not that hard to sneak around here. Doesn’t seem like anyone is really that concerned where we go or when. We could come back tonight, practice alone. Just us. Like old times.”

Kageyama mulls this over. Hinata is sure they’re both thinking the same thing right now – remembering those dark high school gyms, the early morning and late night practices they used to sneak in whenever they could, the constant drive to push each other to be better. It’s what molded both of them into players worthy of representing Japan on the world stage. It could be a reset, a safe, stable ground to land on after two days of turbulence. 

Hinata’s chest tightens with hope. This could be exactly what they need to get back on track.

“Fine,” Kageyama says. 

That’s all, but it’s enough. Hinata doesn’t try to stop the grin that spreads across his face. He is about to say something, to promise Kageyama that this practice will be great, perfect, centering, but then the door of the locker room rattles. 

Kageyama bolts before whomever is in that room can reveal themselves. 

Hinata is tempted to linger, so sorely, desperately tempted, but Kageyama is leaving and if only one of them returns rather than both Coach will only get more frustrated with his problematic duo. He jogs backward for a moment, watching the locker room door, hoping for a glimpse. He thinks he sees the door move when Kageyama grabs him by the collar and yanks him around a bend in the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic updates every two weeks!
> 
>  **Next Time:** A totally not-romantic nighttime practice.
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Hinata sneak into the gym to practice alone at night.

The sound of Kageyama’s hand striking the ball cracks through the empty gym. There’s hardly a beat of silence before Hinata grunts and the ball thuds against his forearms as he receives it and sends it back over the net. 

Kageyama says nothing. It’s better that way, better that they keep practicing in silence. There’s nothing worth talking about. 

They haven’t spoken since they got here. Part of Kageyama feared Hinata wouldn’t show up at all. He’d paced outside the dark gym, hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling more and more foolish with each passing moment. 

Just when Kageyama had been most tempted to bail, a side entrance to the gym opened and Hinata’s orange hair poked out.

“You coming or not?” 

That’d been the last word they’d spoken to each other. Kageyama had replied with a grunt, accepting the invitation when Hinata held open the door. 

The whole gym is still dark. They’d navigated the halls with their phones, turning on only a single light to illuminate the courts. Kageyama suspects Hinata is right that no one really cares if they’re here or not, but he still doesn’t want to chance it. It’ll look strange to say the least if people find them like this and Kageyama isn’t in the mood to explain. 

Maybe Hinata understands this and that’s why he doesn’t speak while they serve to each other. Or maybe Hinata is just afraid Kageyama will leave like he did at practice. 

Kageyama grits his teeth, trying not to dwell on the practice anymore. He crouches, ready for Hinata’s serve. Hinata tosses the ball up, running after it and leaping into the air to spike it over the net. 

Kageyama dives to catch it, barely getting under it to send it back up. It’s still surprising how much Hinata’s serves have improved. The team isn’t relying on him for any aces, of course, but still, the serve is good. Reliable. It’s such a contrast from when they were in high school and Hinata hit the net or the back of someone’s head more often than he actually got the ball to the other team. 

Kageyama retrieves the ball to set up for his own spike. Just another thing not worth dwelling on. Like practice. Like the day before. Like this whole tenuous adventure. They aren’t in high school anymore. What Hinata was like back then doesn’t matter to what’s happening right now. 

They send a few more serves back and forth. Kageyama knows what’s coming even before Hinata finally breaks the truce of silence. 

“Set for me,” Hinata says. 

This, at least, is utterly unchanged from high school. The way Hinata asks this is the way he’s always asked it. The voice, the inflection, the gleam in his eyes. He’s practically quivering with excitement, as though they haven’t done this a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times. 

Kageyama doesn’t trust his own voice so he just nods. It is answer enough. Hinata retrieves a ball, lobs it up for himself, hits it so that it hangs in the air. Then he sprints, a streak of orange and black in the corner of Kageyama’s eye. Everything clicks into place. Kageyama knows exactly where Hinata will be. He can feel it, like it’s inevitable, like there’s only one location in the entire universe where Hinata can possibly end up. 

The ball descends. Kageyama raises his hands. The ball grazes his fingertips, a brief touch, but that’s all Kageyama needs to launch it behind him and up, up, improbably high if it were anyone but Hinata leaping after it, soaring like a crow taking flight. 

Hinata spikes the ball down so hard Kageyama half expects it to leave a divot in the gym floor. When he lands, Hinata lets out a whoop that echoes through the empty room. 

Kageyama nearly smiles. It truly never seems to matter to Hinata whether he’s playing for the whole world or a dark, deserted gym. He only has one speed, can only ever give his absolute all. That’s what Kageyama has always li--

He shakes his head, hard, hard enough that Hinata notices the gesture. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Hinata says. “That one was good. Even you must be able to admit that.” 

“It was fine,” Kageyama says. 

Hinata rolls his eyes and trots off to retrieve the ball, giving Kageyama a breath of space in which to gather himself. 

“Again,” Hinata says when he returns. 

Kageyama sets for him again, and again, until they’re both panting. Yet Hinata’s jumps never let up. Even when the set is a little off, even when Kageyama tests the tempo and height in order to calibrate more perfectly, Hinata is always there, exactly where Kageyama expects and needs him to be, slamming ball after ball over the net. 

Finally, they pause, both gasping for air, hands on their knees as they try to catch their breath. Kageyama thinks maybe this will be it. They can call it a night and celebrate a successful practice. An _ordinary_ practice. They came here, did what they intended to do and left without anything weird happening. This is exactly what Kageyama was hoping for, exactly what he needed. 

Then Hinata looks over at him and that smile is so bright it’s like the gym is suddenly filled with sunlight. Kageyama straightens up, swallowing, pushing down the thing filling up his chest and making it feel tight. 

“Hey,” Hinata says, “that was pretty good, right?” 

“Sure,” Kageyama says. The words have to squeeze past gritted teeth. 

“I hit every one,” Hinata says. “Our timing was perfect.” 

“It wasn’t perfect.”

“It was close.” 

Kageyama crosses his arms over his chest. It helps with that thing making him feel like he’s inhaled more air than his lungs can hold. 

Hinata steps closer. “Kageyama...” 

But Kageyama can’t take another heartfelt speech about how they can “do this” and how it’s gonna be fine and how everything is totally normal and fucking twice in a mad rush was completely ordinary and unremarkable. So he hastens to interrupt. 

“Yeah, it was good,” he says. “It was fine. We’ve got our timing back or whatever.” 

Hinata stops, blinking at him. Is he that surprised by the praise? It’s barely even praise, Kageyama thinks, just a statement of fact. 

“We do,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama scowls. Why is Hinata standing there looking so damn pleased with himself? This is what they’re supposed to do. It’s why they’re here. It’s what they’re on the team to accomplish. 

“Do you want to do a few more?” Hinata says. I’ve still got some energy left.” 

“No,” Kageyama says. 

Hinata’s face falls. A pang cuts through Kageyama’s chest.

“Not tonight,” he amends, and that seems to lessen the sting. “We’ve practiced enough for tonight. We shouldn’t overdo it.” 

“That’s a change,” Hinata says. “The great Kageyama, trying to take it easy?”

“I’m not ‘taking it easy.’ I’m just being reasonable. If we’re exhausted at practice tomorrow Coach Hibarida won’t be happy. He already isn’t happy.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” Hinata says. “Just that it’s a change. Maybe a nice change, even.”

A nice change. Kageyama shakes his head at that. Hinata dips under the net to recover the ball. Why would that be a “nice” change? It’s not nice that Kageyama is slowing down, getting soft. It’s not nice that he’s letting other things take priority over volleyball and interfere with his practices so he has to sneak out here late at night to fix his mistakes. 

Kageyama watches Hinata return with the ball cradled under an arm. What happened to him over in Brazil? Kageyama has never bothered asking, but Hinata certainly returned changed. It’s not that he loves volleyball any less – if anything, he returned loving it even more. But Hinata seemed to reappear with a serenity that he always lacked before. Gone is the urgency he had as a high schooler, that desperate drive that would sometimes lead him into reckless decisions. Brazil matured Hinata somewhat, smoothed down the roughest edges without dulling any of the things that made Hinata so brilliant. 

“What?” Hinata says.

“Huh?” 

“You’re staring,” Hinata says. “What is it? What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Kageyama says. 

Hinata’s eyes narrow. His smile turns mischievous, some of the old boyishness returning in that look. “Nah, it’s something,” Hinata says. “There’s something on your mind. So what is it? Was I too slow? Were my jumps off?”

“No,” Kageyama says. “It was fine. Can we just go?” 

Hinata spins the ball between his hands as he steps close, peering up at Kageyama. “You’re not thinking about volleyball.” 

Kageyama clenches his teeth, his hands. He struggles to hold his ground and glare down. “Excuse me?”

“I can see it. You have a certain look when you’re worrying about volleyball. It’s like...” Hinata’s face goes blank, eyes staring out at nothing. “But this isn’t that. It’s like the opposite. It’s like you’re super, super focused on something.” 

Kageyama huffs and shakes his head. 

“You’ll probably feel better if you just say it,” Hinata goads. 

That’s enough for Kageyama. He spins on his heel and turns away. They’re done practicing. There’s no reason to stay here and get interrogated. 

And what does Hinata even want him to say? He wasn’t thinking about anything. He was just noticing that Hinata had changed a little, that Brazil had matured him a little, that he... that Hinata... 

Hinata. 

He was thinking about Hinata. 

He absolutely would _not_ be admitting to that any time soon.

Kageyama shoves that thought back and keeps walking. He nearly feels free, even proud of himself. He’s managed to show up, practice and get himself back out before things could turn strange. But even as he attempts his escape Hinata grabs him by the wrist, halting Kageyama just off the court, in the dimmer light at the edge of the practice area. 

“Hey,” Hinata says, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to mess with you.”

Kageyama yanks his wrist free. “Great job.”

“I’m serious,” Hinata says. “This was really great, wasn’t it?”

He’s looking up at Kageyama with eyes that feel impossibly large in the dark. Hinata almost seems to totter, to balance on some delicate edge as he awaits Kageyama’s response. A single word will send him falling one direction or the other and Kageyama can’t decide which way to push. 

“Sure,” he says. Simple. Non-committal. 

“The first game is coming up soon,” Hinata says. “We’re gonna win. I can feel it.”

“You can’t _feel_ things like that.”

“Sure you can,” Hinata says. He punches Kageyama lightly in the chest, leaving his fist resting there. “Right here. Sometimes you just know.” 

Kageyama looks down at that hand. Hinata isn’t moving it. Why the hell isn’t he moving it? It’s just lingering there, warm and solid, so easily within Kageyama’s grasp.

Kageyama sets his hand over Hinata’s fist, but then he freezes. He isn’t sure if he’s holding Hinata in place or preparing to fling him away. The desire to do both at the same time clashes in his mind, making the gym rock around him for a delirious moment. 

Hinata’s next breath trembles. Kageyama can hear it. He follows the sound, traces up from their overlapping hands along Hinata’s arm, up his throat to gently parted lips. Kageyama drags his gaze higher and finds Hinata watching him, warmth lighting his cheeks in the gloom. 

Some part of Kageyama’s mind is blaring, absolutely shrieking as the rest of him holds deadly still. Is he really going to do this again? Is he really going to make this mistake for a third time? And right here in the gym?

He can’t. God, he can’t. It will be the end of everything. Suddenly, he’s absolutely sure of that. One more mindless flurry of limbs and mouths and heat and that will be it, no turning back, no even attempting to do things like practice and focus and pretend everything is OK. 

That thought barely stops him.

It’s like a hand is holding him back, but its strength wanes with each passing moment. He can sense it starting to give, starting to weaken against the force of this thing that has been urging him on since the moment he and Hinata arrived at their first practice together. Even if he resists right here, right now, there will be another time and another and eventually he will break.

So why not just get it over with? 

He leans forward, prepared to do just that, welcoming the fall, the screaming fading and fading until it is an insignificant mumble. 

Then a door opens. 

Kageyama jerks back. Hinata gasps like someone startled out of a deep sleep and takes his own step backward. They both spin toward the sound of the door as someone enters the gym. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Kageyama says. 

Kuroo smirks and sets his hands on his hips. “I could ask you two the same thing now, couldn’t I?” 

Kageyama hates that edge to his voice, hates that Kuroo very nearly caught them, hates that he’s grinning like he actually does know their secret and means to savor it. Kageyama stomps toward Kuroo, grabbing him by the shirt, shoving him back against the wall. Kuroo puts up his hands in a placating gesture, but that smile doesn’t fade.

“Hey, relax, buddy,” Kuroo says. “I’m just passing through.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Kageyama growls.

“Neither should you.”

“We were practicing.” 

“Even so,” Kuroo says. 

Kageyama means to snarl at him more, but Hinata grabs Kageyama by the arm, forcing him to release Kuroo and step back. It makes Kageyama no less enraged, but it stops him from taking out his frustration on the grinning fool before him.

“Seriously,” Hinata says, “what in the world are you doing here, Kuroo?” 

“Geeze, chill,” Kuroo says. “I was just checking the place out, OK? Can I guy go for a walk?” 

That is a lie and not even a good one, but Kageyama just grinds his teeth.

“What about you two?” Kuroo raises his eyebrow, punctuating his statement with suggestions Kageyama distinctly does not appreciate. 

“Practicing,” Hinata says, “just like Kageyama said. We were just finishing up, actually.”

“Ah, is that why you were all huddled up over here by the wall?”

“We weren’t ‘huddled up,’” Kageyama says. “We were leaving.” 

“How lucky then,” Kuroo says. “We happen to be passing by each other at the perfect time.”

 _Perfect for who?_ Kageyama wonders, but some part of him agrees with Kuroo. If it weren’t for this interruption, Kageyama might have--

Nope. No. Not going to imagine that. Not when he so narrowly just escaped his own worst instincts to make it happen. 

“You’re way too energetic about checking out a gym in the middle of the night,” Kageyama says. 

Kuroo shrugs. “Trouble sleeping,” he says, but something in his tone makes Kageyama think he never attempted to sleep at all. 

It’s enough to divert Kageyama’s attention off of his own indiscretions for a moment. He narrows his eyes, looking around, searching for an accomplice, something amiss that would explain Kuroo’s behavior. The more his brain cools off and he contemplates the situation, the more it seems strange that Kuroo is here at all. 

“Enough with the glares,” Kuroo says. “It’s part of my job to know this place inside and out, right? I just figured I’d sneak in a private tour when I won’t get in anyone’s way.” 

“Right,” Hinata says, but even he’s sounding skeptical now. 

“Anyway, you two look chipper,” Kuroo says. “I take it your little private practice went well then?” 

He waggles his eyebrows, grin turning toothy, and that’s about all Kageyama can take. Kuroo has been poking at him since that night in the restaurant. Kageyama isn’t sure if he knows or suspects or just really wants it to be true, but no matter the case, Kageyama does not mean to give the nosy pest the satisfaction of finding out. 

“Shut up. Leave. None of us are supposed to be here,” Kageyama says. 

“Ouch. It’s not like what I’m doing is any more illegal than what you two are doing,” Kuroo says. “Though it might be less interesting. I see you two are back to your old ways.”

Again, Kuroo’s words could mean a dozen different things and again, Kageyama doesn’t like any of his options. He tries to step back in close to Kuroo but Hinata grabs him by the arm to stop him. 

“How about we all just stop breaking rules and leave, huh?” Hinata says. “None of us have any good reason to still be here.” 

Kuroo looks disappointed, yet when he takes in Kageyama’s glare, he agrees. Still, there’s something in the way he shrugs, in the way his eyes linger on Kageyama for a beat too long, in the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around like he’s got all the time in the world that leaves Kageyama on edge even when he manages to make it back to his hotel room – alone, blessedly alone – and lay in bed scowling at the ceiling for most of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic updates every two weeks.
> 
>  **Next time:** The first match of the 2021 Olympics.
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the first game of the 2021 Olympics. Can they keep it together for the sake of their team?

Stepping onto the court is like walking right into the sun. The lights are blaring, scorching. Everything seems to gleam and reflect.

Hinata can hardly keep from running.

He trembles with anticipation as he and the rest of the Japanese National Team pace onto the volleyball courts. A murmur ripples through the packed stands. Cameras snap. Television cameras swivel toward the athletes. 

Hinata soaks up every second of it. 

He jumps, ostensibly to warm up for the match, but mostly to dispel some of the excitement quivering through him. He catches Kageyama watching him, but even that doesn’t sour his anticipation. If anything, it makes the sensation more intense, almost painful – he’s going to play volleyball with Kageyama. He’s going to play volleyball in front of the _entire world_ with Kageyama. 

This is what they’ve been striving for ever since they were in middle school. Hinata always imagined they’d reach this point as rivals somehow, but being on the same side of the net is even better. 

The other team makes their entrance. The athletes from the U.S. are certainly big, but Hinata knows that look in their eyes. They’re nervous. It takes every ounce of self-control not to grin at that. 

Coach Hibarida gathers the team before the game begins.

Hinata glances around at his teammates. This is it. They’re really doing it. Kageyama and Sakusa look grim, almost queasy, but Atsumu flashes Hinata a grin to match his own. Hoshiumi and Bokuto are set and determined, but Bokuto winks when Hinata catches his eye. Ushijima is a pillar of stone, a rock the entire team can rely on for stability even among the blazing lights and prodding cameras. 

Hinata clenches his fists. This team is good. It’s damn good and even the Americans on the other side of the net know it. 

“We’re going to start with Hinata and Kageyama on the court,” Coach Hibarida says. “I want to be fast and in their face right from the first whistle, understand? You two are there to deliver a shock. Later, we’ll get Atsumu in there to serve. Their receives aren’t that strong. We might be able to get a few aces off them.” 

Everyone nods. Coach continues, but Hinata barely hears him. He’s starting. He and Kageyama – they’ll be the first people on the court for the first official volleyball match of the entire 2021 Olympics. 

Lifetimes stretch between the pep talk and that first whistle, lifetimes in which Hinata does anything he can to keep from exploding with eagerness. At some point, Atsumu takes him by the shoulders. 

“You’re ready for this, right?” Atsumu says.

“Of course,” Hinata says. 

“What about him?” He jerks his head in the direction of Kageyama, who’s talking quietly with Ushijima. 

What about him? Hinata wonders. Kageyama is never anything less than competent, but the past several days have clearly rattled him. Even though their secret night practice mostly went well, Kuroo nearly ruined the whole thing. Or did Kuroo’s intrusion save them? It was clear they were about to make the same mistake for a third time before Kuroo charged in. That night, Hinata had been less than happy about it, but maybe it truly was for the best. The more distance there was between Kageyama and their two frantic hookups, the more centered and collected he seemed to become. At this point, multiple uneventful days had passed. Hopefully, it was enough.

“He’s fine,” Hinata says. It isn’t a mere guess. If there’s anything Hinata knows about Kageyama it’s that he isn’t going to fuck this up. The set of his jaw, the look in his eyes, even the slight tension around his mouth – they aren’t anxiety. They’re readiness. Kageyama is just as eager for this as Hinata. 

“If you say so,” Atsumu says. He pats Hinata’s shoulder. “Don’t let him knock you off your game.” 

He won’t. Hinata is absolutely positive of that. If anything, Kageyama will make him better, just as he always has when they’ve been on a volleyball court together. 

“We’ve got this,” he says.

When the whistle finally blows, it truly feels like they do.

The very first serve is smoothly received by Sakusa. Even before Kageyama gets under it, Hinata is sprinting across the court. The other attackers are also moving, but Hinata knows with absolute faith that when he leaps the ball will be waiting for him.

It is.

He slams it down. It slaps the ground between stunned defenders who can do little more than blink up at Hinata. The world slows for a moment, allowing him to drink in the looks of surprise on the faces of the Americans before he returns to the ground. 

The crowd erupts. The very first point of the match and the quick attack is already on display, one of their most potent weapons flashed brazenly before their opponents’ eyes, before the entire world’s eyes. It’s a dare, a challenge. Not just to the Americans – to the whole damn universe. 

_Come and get us,_ that point says. _Come and beat us if you can._

When Hinata turns, Kageyama is smirking at him, one side of his mouth pulling up. He nods, a short jerk of his head, but it’s a promise, a pact. _They won’t beat us. Not a single damn one of them._

Despite the success of the attack, Kageyama holds off on the quick for several more rotations. Hinata focuses on his other jobs: receiving, serving, distracting. From the moment that first quick attack scores, the Americans laser focus on him. Hinata uses it. Or, more precisely, Kageyama uses it. Every set _could_ go to Hinata. He rushes the net as though each and every one of them will. His unflagging faith in those sets force the U.S. team to mark him, but meanwhile the likes of Bokuto and Ushijima drive up the score, putting a gap between the teams that the Americans simply can’t surmount in that first set.

Hinata is almost startled when the whistle blows to announce that Japan has won the first bout of this opening match. The crowd doesn’t cheer, not exactly. The sound murmuring through the stands is a surprised susurrus. Japan is certainly known to be a strong team this year, but Hinata suspects that the rest of the world didn’t understand just _how_ strong. 

He smirks to himself. They’re about to learn.

The second set opens with Atsumu serving and he makes good on the threat of scoring a couple aces before the Americans can recover from his blistering and varied attacks. He stays on to set, while Kageyama and Hinata rotate out. That should relieve their opponents, and perhaps for a moment it does, but left to deal with the likes of Ushijima, they quickly fall on the back foot once again. 

They’re dominant. There’s no other word for what happens on the court this day. Any time the U.S. team seems even a little bit comfortable Coach Hibarida switches it up again. Kageyama and Hinata get another stint on the court and even though the Americans are immediately on guard for the quick attack, they don’t manage to stop it. 

By the time the whistle blows again, it’s an act of mercy. 

The crowd is oddly quiet, stunned into muttering. The journalists are quicker to recover, sweeping in to interview Hinata and his teammates. Coach Hibarida ushers them into the locker rooms before the TV cameras can bombard them. 

It’s all a whirlwind. Hinata feels like only seconds ago he was stepping onto the court to start the game and now it’s already over. He’s in the eerie hush of the locker room, peeling off a sweaty jersey alongside his teammates, who are slapping each other on the shoulders and back. 

A hand lands on Hinata’s shoulder, nearly toppling him. Ushijima isn’t smiling, but he’s coming about as close to a smile as he ever gets. He nods at Hinata. 

“Good work.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Hinata says. Sometimes it feels like they’re still high school rivals, even being on the same team for the Olympics. This tiny shred of praise is more than they’ve said to each other since the games started. 

“That attack will be useful,” Ushijima says.

“Yeah,” Hinata says. 

“It is … nostalgic.” 

There’s some extra weight to that statement, some heaviness that sinks into Hinata’s stomach. Ushijima isn’t the kind of guy to waste words, so Hinata is sure he means something by this, something he isn’t mentioning. 

“I guess so,” Hinata says. “It almost feels like back in high school, huh?” 

Ushijima hums and offers a nod. Apparently that is all he means to say because he starts to edge away. Hinata follows him for a moment, until he sees Kageyama, who’d clearly been watching the conversation. 

Hinata might have felt annoyed. He might have rolled his eyes at the thought that Kageyama was really standing there trying to eavesdrop on the conversation because he’s so paranoid about absolutely everything that has to do with Hinata right now. 

But he doesn’t.

Kageyama is shirtless and that simple fact overwhelms any other thought that tries to squeeze into Hinata’s awareness. Still sweaty and pumped from playing hard during the match, Kageyama’s muscles cut hard planes across his chest and down his torso. 

Kageyama’s suspicion dissipates as Hinata watches him, smoldering heat replacing it. That look makes Hinata startle. He’s shirtless too, he realizes, caught midway through changing by Ushijima’s conversation. Normally, he’d just strip entirely and grab a quick shower before changing out of his uniform, but today that seems a perilous prospect. From the widening of Kageyama’s eyes and the slight parting of his lips, Hinata suspects Kageyama agrees. 

Hinata turns away, facing his locker like it’s the most interesting thing in all the universe. He changes quickly, disregarding the fact that he’s still sweaty as he slips on clean clothing. Before he can sneak out of the locker room entirely, though, Coach Hibarida addresses the entire team. 

“Good work out there today,” he starts.

Hinata almost immediately loses the thread of the pep talk. A few members of the press have snuck into the locker room and they’re recording or writing notes as Coach Hibarida speaks. Everyone is watching him, nodding along as he talks about how cohesive they were as a team, the challenges to come, the promise of this team that’s been gathered from the best of the best all throughout Japan. 

“And that quick attack,” Coach says. His gaze flickers between Hinata and Kageyama, a small smile touching his lips. “I don’t think we’ll get away with it forever, but we’ve certainly shown the world what we can do.” 

He pauses, giving Hinata and Kageyama another look. 

Hinata should be ecstatic. Part of him is. But another part of him is terrified. He stares straight ahead, looking only at the coach and not daring a glance at Kageyama. They did it, this time, but a single glance, a single misstep, a single night practice that turns into more, and this attack the whole team is gloating about right now could become a disaster. 

Hinata knows it. Kageyama clearly knows it. Hinata just hopes the knowledge ends there. 

Coach Hibarida finally moves on and Hinata nearly sighs with relief. He should be soaking up the attention and praise, but right now he just wants to get back to the hotel. 

The cameras recede. Kuroo takes care of the rest of the press requests while Coach has a quieter word with his team. 

“We’re going out to celebrate tonight,” he says. “I’m going to ask you to refrain from alcohol so you can stay in top condition, but you earned this. We’ll leave from the hotel at seven.” 

At last, the speeches and congratulations end. At last, Hinata and the rest of the team are released to return to their hotel in the Olympic Village. Hinata hurries back to his room, stripping, standing under the shower head for far longer than necessary, wondering just how long this tenuous triumph will last.

#

The team rents out a whole karaoke bar that night. Between the players, the coaches, the support staff like Kuroo and Iwaizumi, and the couple extra guests no one asks too hard about, they easily fill the place. 

Hinata’s soured mood lifts the moment he steps into _Limelight_. Support staff and random guests are already there and they cheer as Japan’s National Team makes its entrance. They aren’t the only ones. Even the staff of the karaoke bar claps for the volleyball players arriving to unwind after their victory. 

Hinata’s anxiety evaporates. The joy of the bar’s staff is a stark reminder that this isn’t just about him. It’s about the whole country. Maybe Japan wasn’t much of a contender in past years, but today they showed the world that they will be this year. 

Even without alcohol, the mood is intoxicating. Coach Hibarida ensures that food and drinks make the rounds, filling every table. As Hinata sits with Atsumu and Bokuto, contemplating which song to choose, nachos and burgers and all manner of American bar food appears. 

“Thought it would be on-theme,” Kuroo says, taking an empty seat. 

Atsumu and Bokuto laugh, immediately digging in. 

“A little mean,” Bokuto says around a mouthful of nachos, “but damn, this is good.” 

Kuroo slaps Hinata on the shoulder.

“Hey, dig in,” he says. “You deserve it after that game.” 

Hinata takes the advice to heart. There’s onion rings, chicken wings, even mozzarella sticks. Coach might be keeping them away from the booze, but the party feels decadent nonetheless. Hinata fears he might make himself sick from the heaviness of all the greasy food, but he can barely manage to care. 

He doesn’t even notice that Kuroo has wandered away until he sees him on stage belting out a terrible rendition of a pop song Hinata distantly recognizes. Kuroo’s a decent singer, but he’s definitely over-selling it, perhaps on purpose. Everyone claps when the song ends. 

“That was quite a performance,” Atsumu says.

“You gonna pick something?” Bokuto says.

Hinata flips through a song book. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” Bokuto says. “We can do a duet.”

That’s an absolutely absurd suggestion, but it won’t be the first time Hinata has gotten swept up in Bokuto’s infectious enthusiasm. Before he knows it, he’s on stage, Bokuto’s arm heavy across his shoulders as they stumble through an American song from the 80s Hinata only kind of knows. It’s hard to tell they’re not drunk from the way they wobble and stumble while attempting to sing. 

Despite the greasy snacks, by the time Hinata leaves the stage he feels light. It’s almost like when he was in high school and Coach Ukai would take them all out for food. It was so easy back then to get caught up in Nishinoya’s rapid fire energy and Suga’s analysis and even Kageyama’s more mild but still obvious joy. 

Hinata finds himself searching for his teammate now. Surely, even Kageyama has to be happy about this. They won their first game decisively and in large part due to Kageyama’s sets. 

Kageyama is at the far end of the bar, a quieter corner where he sits with Sakusa and Ushijima. Hinata nearly laughs. It figures the three of them would be a little off to the side, just a touch removed from the heart of the noise and excitement. Still, even Ushijima is smiling at the moment. They’re probably talking about the game, maybe even strategizing for the next one. 

Hinata can’t help himself. He heads their direction. Kageyama’s eyes go wide when he notices, but Ushijima and Sakusa regard Hinata with little nods. 

“Figuring out what you’re gonna sing?” Hinata says. He stays standing. It’s nice being taller than these giants for once.

Ushijima smirks a little, but Sakusa seems horrified by the mere suggestion that he’d get on a stage and sing. Kageyama is holding very, very still, in a way that Hinata has learned to read as “terrified and trying not to show it.” 

He almost rolls his eyes. Sure, there was that little moment in the locker room, but this is ridiculous. They won! They should all be thrilled about it. 

“Come on,” Hinata says. “I’m sure there’s something you want to sing.” 

Ushijima shakes his head. Sakusa hugs himself as though holding in a shudder. 

“Well, I hope you’re having a good time anyway,” Hinata says. “We really showed up today, huh?” 

Ushijima nods. 

“We can’t just do the same thing over and over and expect to win,” Sakusa says, dower as ever. 

Even his bleak warning can’t bring down Hinata’s mood, however. 

“Do you want something?” Kageyama says. 

“Nope!” Hinata says. He takes a seat. “God, you guys barely look happy about winning.” 

“We are thinking about the next game,” Sakusa says. 

“Which we’ll also win,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Not if we sit around eating junk food.” 

“It is fine,” Ushijima says. 

It’s surprising coming from him, but Hinata just laughs. The ghost of a smile touches Ushijima’s mouth. Seeing him actually relaxing, actually having fun – at least for him – fills Hinata with eager energy. 

Still, it’s clear Kageyama wants him to go. Hinata feels like he shouldn’t push his luck. Kageyama deserves to enjoy this win just as much as everyone else, maybe more. Hinata can’t quite live with the idea that his mere presence might bring down Kageyama’s mood or make him nervous and tense. 

He makes some excuse, receiving nods in response as he stands and leaves the quiet table behind. It’s Atsumu’s turn on stage. Bokuto has abandoned the table where they were sitting to chat with a server at the bar. Hinata just watches it all, soaking in the excitement of the rest of his team. 

Being a pro has been great, but not since his Karasuno days has Hinata felt something like this, this instant cohesion, this deep camaraderie. There are people on the MSBY team he’s close with, but there’s something in the air in this karaoke bar that’s different. This isn’t a job or a team that’s going to shift from season to season. This is more like a moment, a precious, fleeting moment. It’s not even over yet and already Hinata knows he’s trying to cling to every detail, imprint the memory somewhere deep inside him so it will be vibrant in his mind forever.

And that certainly includes Kageyama. 

_That_ will also be part of the memory, sweet and bright, a whirlwind he will never quite understand, but will cherish just the same. 

He only wishes Kageyama might feel the same. What would it take for him to savor those fleeting moments instead of regret and fear them? Hinata feels helpless in the face of Kageyama’s timidity about this. It shouldn’t be so difficult.

Yet it is. Even Hinata casually chatting about the game set Kageyama on edge. 

Hinata sighs. He shouldn’t look. He definitely shouldn’t look. He absolutely, positively shouldn’t look. But of course he does. 

Kageyama is heading directly toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic updates every two weeks. The next update will be **one day early** to accommodate other fandom events I'm participating in that week.
> 
>  **Next time:** There was no alcohol at the party, so why do they feel absolutely drunk as they stumble toward the bathroom?
> 
> \-- 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama means to apologize. Hinata is actually being really cool about this. But Kageyama sucks at apologies and at this and ... fuck it. 
> 
> He asks for what he wants instead.

Kageyama strides through the bar toward Hinata. He has to stride. Anything less and he’ll lose his nerve. 

He stops right in front of Hinata, who blinks wide eyes at him. 

“Sorry,” Kageyama grumbles. 

“What?” 

He takes a deep breath. This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s a simple apology. He knows Hinata was just trying to be nice and friendly – _normal_ – when he came over to the table where Kageyama sat with Sakusa and Ushijima. 

“You left because of me,” Kageyama grits out.

Hinata blinks again, the picture of innocence. “Left?” 

Kageyama sighs out his frustration. Well, he tried. No one can say he didn’t try. 

“Good game,” he says instead. 

“Oh!” Hinata perks up at this. “Thanks. You too, obviously. I mean, you were the one setting and everything.” 

Hinata goes on, rambling, saying the same thing over and over. Is he nervous or just stupid? Kageyama wonders what he’s doing here, why he’s even bothering, why he’s just standing here watching Hinata’s mouth move while his face lights up. He always looks like this when he’s talking about volleyball. 

And Kageyama always watches.

There’s no alcohol. There’s definitely been no alcohol tonight, but something about his jubilant teammates, the victorious atmosphere, the optimistic mood – it has Kageyama feeling less steady than he should.

“Do you think we’ll start next time?” 

It takes Kageyama a moment to realize Hinata has asked him a question. “If Coach wants us to.”

“Well, sure, yeah, of course, but I’m asking if you think he’ll want us to.” 

“Maybe.” 

Hinata is watching him for some reason. Kageyama longs to say something, anything. Why is it that so little comes out just when so much is bubbling around in his head? Why are these always the moments when he can find the fewest words? 

“Do you feel OK?” Hinata says. 

“Maybe not.” 

_What’s that mean?_

“What’s that mean?” Hinata says, echoing his thoughts. 

Kageyama has no idea. He just meant to apologize for the awkward moment with Sakusa and Ushijima. That’s all. No big deal. And here he is, just like every time he’s anywhere near Hinata. It’s like his whole brain short circuits, leaving him stumbling and stupid. 

Even Kageyama knows he’s running. Every time this feeling comes over him he just wants to escape. The problem is that “escape” could mean so much. It could mean sprinting away, rushing out of the bar, getting back to the hotel and slamming the door shut on all of this for as long as he can. 

Or it could mean...

Or it could mean just giving in to what he so obviously wants. It could mean running _toward_ instead of away. It could mean escaping the restraints he’s placed on himself. 

And why? Why is he so afraid anyway?

“We played well today,” Kageyama says. 

Hinata looks utterly confused by the random shifts of topic. “Yeah, we crushed.” 

He’s so blissfully unassuming and earnest, still taking Kageyama at face value. 

“Despite … things,” Kageyama says. “We played really well.” 

“Oh.” Hinata blinks rapidly, finally catching on. “Oh, well, yeah. Of course, Kageyama.” 

He reaches out, lightly clasping Kageyama’s arm. The touch burns.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says, “I told you we could do this. I wasn’t exaggerating. We’ve got this. I had no doubt. Why don’t we just enjoy the party and not worry about it, OK? There’s still more games, but we’re gonna be great. I’m sure.” 

He pats Kageyama’s arm, then starts to move off, presumably to drift back into the party, wandering to some less confounding and more fun conversation, probably. It makes sense. It’s not like Kageyama has been saying anything useful or even interesting. Just bursts of noise that have found their ways out of his stupid head. 

It’s unfair, the way Hinata is taking this all in stride. It’s unfair that Kageyama feels so conflicted while Hinata doesn’t mind at all. It’s unfair that Kageyama doesn’t even know why he’s fighting so god damn hard anymore and yet cannot seem to stop. Why is it that he only has control over himself on the court? Everywhere else he’s like a buoy battered by waves, adrift in a storm of conflicting desires that will likely leave him wrecked on one shoreline or the other. 

It’s just so damn unfair.

He lunges before he realizes he’s moving and catches Hinata’s arm. His grip is too tight, that’s obvious from the way Hinata’s face tightens up before he looks up at Kageyama. 

The words arrive in a rush. They’re going to happen, whether he wants them to or not, but for the moment, he’s disinclined to stop them.

“I want you.” 

Hinata’s face goes wide and open with surprise. He watches Kageyama, his mouth dropping open, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’s very, very still in Kageyama’s hold, so still Kageyama begins to worry that something is wrong. 

“Y-yeah,” Hinata says. “Yeah, OK.” 

Kageyama should feel relieved, but the shock that jolts his whole body into motion is the opposite of relief or surrender. He’s suddenly urgent, focused, like he’s trying to get through some practice drill and needs to concentrate on every step to ensure it’s right. 

They need a place, obviously. They can’t just leave the bar together right now. Everyone is here and from the looks on his teammates’s faces and the queue for karaoke, no one seems terribly inclined to leave any time soon. 

The bathroom then. An inelegant solution, but this is not the moment for careful planning. 

He starts walking. He doesn’t grab Hinata or turn to see if he follows, he simply goes. Whatever happens next, it’s beyond his control. 

Kageyama nearly throws the door to the bathroom open. It shuts behind him, muffling the celebratory racket in the karaoke bar. 

He’s alone. The bathroom is cool. All that heat, both from the excitement of the party and the excitement churning in his stomach, starts to dissipate. It should be welcome, but Kageyama finds himself missing the warmth, mourning its passing. 

Hinata didn’t follow. Shit, of course he didn’t. 

Kageyama goes to one of the sinks and turns on the water, just watching it run. He was going to splash it on his face, but he just freezes there instead watching the flow. 

Hinata was right not to follow, obviously. Kageyama has been nothing but a dick to him this entire time. Why would he follow when he can stay at the party instead, adored and praised by everyone around him? 

Kageyama feels like a fool. He’s been taking advantage of Hinata’s sunny nature. Some part of him has been counting on just being forgiven over and over, but life doesn’t work that way. He can’t just shove someone away, growl and snap at them, declare how he wants nothing to do with them, then expect eager acceptance when he’s horny enough to come crawling back. 

He finally puts his hands in the water and splashes some on his face. It helps cool not just the heat of his desire, but also the burn of shame that chased him into this restroom. He turns off the water and wipes his face dry on his sleeve. 

He can’t undo the past, but he can be less of an ass in the future. That’s the best apology he’ll be able to muster, he suspects, and he owes Hinata at least that much at this point. 

Kageyama straightens. He very nearly feels human again. 

Then Hinata walks in. 

Kageyama backs up against the far wall of the bathroom and Hinata pauses, considering him. 

“What took you so long?” Kageyama says, trying to regain any kind of grounding here. 

“I figured it would be better if we didn’t walk in together, right?” Hinata says.

Kageyama blinks. Wait, Hinata was being careful? “Oh,” he says. “Yeah. Sure. Good thinking.” 

Hinata steps closer cautiously, like he’s afraid of startling Kageyama. “Did you think I changed my mind? That I wasn’t coming?” 

“I...” Kageyama feels like a fool. He _is_ a fool. 

“Kageyama.” Hinata gets close enough to set a finger under Kageyama’s chin, drawing his gaze upward. “Do you seriously think I’d turn down an opportunity like this?” 

Kageyama hadn’t considered that. Not once had it crossed his mind that Hinata might want this as badly as he does. Not once had he believed that what burned and boiled inside him might also simmer within Hinata. That was far too much to hope for. 

He doesn’t bother answering with words. Instead, he grabs the front of Hinata’s shirt and pulls until there is no more space between them, until their hips and chests and lips meet. And maybe it’s true, what Hinata said about feeling the same, because the heat that builds between them isn’t just Kageyama. There are two fires burning, both equally bright.

The moment their mouths connect, the heat threatens to rage out of control, an inferno they cannot contain. Is this what Kuroo interrupted in the gym the other night? If so, he merely delayed the inevitable and made it burn all the hotter in the meantime. 

Hinata paws at Kageyama, his hands clumsy until he gets a grip on Kageyama’s shirt. He uses it to push away, however, and Kageyama is left flushed and gasping. 

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama says. 

“We shouldn’t stay out here,” Hinata says. “Anyone could walk in.” 

That’s a good point. A really good point. God, how has Kageyama become the one who’s so careless about being discovered all of a sudden? Wasn’t it Hinata who seemed unconcerned about their teammates finding out?

 _He’s doing it for me,_ Kageyama realizes with a jolt. Hinata’s newfound caution is a response to Kageyama’s anxieties. He’s become careful and suspicious so that Kageyama will feel better about all this. 

_Shit._

Hinata starts to pull, chewing on his bottom lip as he tows Kageyama along. He backs into a stall and kicks the door shut. It’s a tight fit with both of them in there. The flimsy plastic of the stall’s door rattles as Hinata’s back hits it. 

He yanks Kageyama back to his mouth while Kageyama is still getting his bearings. The world rocks before it ever has time to settle. Kageyama presses against the heat of Hinata’s mouth, prodding with his tongue. Hinata lets him in and Kageyama licks, tasting greasy American food overlaying the sweet, bitter taste that is purely Hinata. It’s unfiltered sunlight and it’s burning its way down Kageyama’s throat, almost too hot to bear. 

Kageyama’s hands roam down Hinata’s body until he finds his hips. He tugs so that Hinata’s hips meet his own. Hinata’s already hard and he’s not trying to hide it as he grinds against Kageyama. God, they’ve done nothing but kiss. 

The tangible evidence of Hinata’s desire sends a rush through Kageyama’s veins, like his very blood is electrified. No amount of words could say what their bodies are both saying right now. For Kageyama, someone who’s always valued actions over words, there is no greater confirmation that Hinata actually, truly, really does feel what Kageyama’s feeling, that Hinata actually does still want him despite it all, that Hinata has already forgiven all that’s led up to this moment. 

It’s more than Kageyama deserves. 

Even in the heat and tumult of the moment, Kageyama feels compelled to say something. He pulls off of Hinata’s mouth with a wet smack. Hinata goes immediately for his neck, kissing and sucking, sending goosebumps rippling in a wave that moves down Kageyama’s arms and chest. 

“I wanted to make this right somehow,” Kageyama says, voice breathy, “but every time I talk to you I somehow make it worse.”

“Mmm,” Hinata says. 

“I’m serious,” Kageyama says. “I fucked up.” 

Hinata breaks from Kageyama’s skin only long enough to say “so?” then dives back in. 

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama says. “That’s – I’m trying to explain that I’m sorry.”

Hinata finally relents in his assault on Kageyama’s neck, pulling back to set his hands on Kageyama’s cheeks and peer up at him. 

“Kageyama,” he says, “I don’t give a shit about that right now. I just want to fuck you.”

Kageyama’s eyelids flutter. 

“R-right,” he says. 

Hinata smirks, lips twisting to hold in what is surely a laugh, then he draws Kageyama’s mouth back to his. His kiss is softer this time, a reassurance rather than the passionate pleas they’ve been communicating with up until this point. 

Kageyama needs to do his part. He’s bungled this about a dozen times already, but Hinata is still here so he still has a chance. If only he can shut the hell up. Normally, that wouldn’t be any kind of issue for him, but the apologies and explanations are still bubbling inside him. 

Some other time, he resolves. A better time. A quieter, cooler, less frantic time. 

That conjures images of dark bedrooms, of snuggling beneath tangled sheets in the afterglow of what they’re about to do. 

Kageyama shakes his head a little. Now is not the time. 

Hinata pulls away. “Something wrong?”

Kageyama gazes down at his sunshine face, orange hair still a little wild like when he was a boy, eyes as bright and blazing as the sun itself. 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he runs his hand down Hinata’s body, until he rubs over the excitement obvious in Hinata’s pants. Hinata gasps, arching into the touch. The blush that heats his cheeks makes his face impossibly brighter. It’s almost too much to look at, like the sun is shining directly in Kageyama’s eyes. He dares not even blink.

Kageyama concentrates on keeping his hand moving, increasing the pressure. It’s steadying, at least compared to trying to comprehend the ridiculous beauty of the man before him, the man who’s given him far more chances than he deserves, the man impossibly still _this_ attracted to him. 

Kageyama can’t stand it another moment. He sweeps down, kissing up Hinata’s neck. The glow dims, but that’s far more bearable than the alternative. 

His hand is still rubbing as his lips trail upward, until he’s nibbling on Hinata’s ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to tug on it. His tongue darts out to lick at the sensitive space behind Hinata’s ear. Hinata gasps, clutching at Kageyama’s shoulders, arching even harder against his hand. 

Kageyama thrills at this secret knowledge, this thing only he knows. He stores it away somewhere in his chest, heart clenching around Hinata’s reaction, imprinting it on his very bones. 

“F-fuck, Kageyama,” Hinata breathes, “I--” 

He doesn’t manage to finish, but Kageyama understands. He’s on the verge himself, straining against his jeans. The pressure is so great he almost feels like his pants will cause damage if he doesn’t get them off soon. Never has clothing been so uncomfortable. 

Still, he relieves Hinata first, fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants to get his cock free. Hinata sighs as he springs from his boxers. Kageyama feels a shock of urgency; some part of him is screaming that he needs to get that cock in his hand or mouth _now_ , but he somehow resists long enough to undo his own pants and relieve the ache pounding within his jeans. 

Finally, he can get Hinata in his hand. He feels incredible, like his cock was made to fit specifically in Kageyama’s hold. 

Kageyama makes a couple slow, teasing trips up and down and Hinata chews at his bottom lip and whines. He’s trying not to smile. It’s obvious from how he bites down on that lip. Kageyama doesn’t want smiling, though. He wants destruction. 

He tightens his hold and strokes once hard and fast. The smile vanishes, replaced by a gasp. Hinata’s eyes squeeze shut. His head knocks against the plastic of the stall as he throws it back. 

That’s better. 

Kageyama slows down again, taunting. Hinata actually whimpers as Kageyama goes slower and softer, but Kageyama is intent on drawing this out. 

He comes to regret that as the bathroom door opens and they both freeze completely. 

Kageyama is still gripping Hinata’s cock and it goes just slightly softer as they both silence their rasping breaths and hold perfectly still. 

They can wait this out, Kageyama thinks. Maybe it’ll be exciting, dangerous. That’s a thing people are into, right? Like one of those cheesy romance novels where the couple is always on the verge of getting caught. 

But it isn’t just one person here for a quick break. There are two voices and they’re overlapping and despite Coach’s alcohol restrictions they’re certainly not sober. 

A body hits the outside of the stall. The door rattles and Kageyama’s startles. His hand tightens on Hinata, who struggles not to yelp or jerk, judging by how wide his eyes go and the way he slaps a hand over his mouth.

Kageyama hastily releases him. Hinata still has a hand on his shoulder. Their bodies are still so tantalizingly close. The pause has certainly deflated some of the steam they were building, but there’s more than enough left to leave Kageyama aching painfully as he tries to sort out just what the hell they’re going to do about this. 

“Oh, daddy, you’re so naughty. The whole team is still out there.” 

Hinata’s eyes go wider. He looks right at Kageyama and it’s so clear what they’re both thinking that Kageyama can almost hear their thought audibly. 

_The same people who were in the locker room?_

Hinata gives the slightest of nods, answering the question they dare not speak. 

It can’t be. It seriously, seriously can’t be. Yet Kageyama cringes as he recognizes the voice whining on the other side of the door. 

The stall door rattles again. Whomever is out there is trying to get in. Thankfully, the door is locked and the intruder gives up quickly. 

Unfortunately, they rebound into the very next stall. 

Kageyama hears them making out, bumping against the plastic walls, moaning and muttering. He’s too terrified to do anything now. Hinata’s hand is getting tighter on his shoulder. All Kageyama wants to do is melt into the floor and disappear. 

“Are you gonna fuck me right here, daddy?” 

Kageyama goes rigid as he awaits the answer.

“Baby, you have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a day early, but usually this fic updates every two weeks! So the next one will be two weeks and one day (sorry).
> 
>  **Next time:** The ... ehem ... situation in the bathroom resolves in ... a few ways. 
> 
> \--- 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Hinata have to listen to someone else fuck right beside them in the bathroom. They find they don't exactly mind the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a mostly auditory sex scene haha. This was certainly interesting.

Fear and surprise soften Hinata’s excitement. Then the couple slams against the door and Kageyama’s hand goes tighter on Hinata’s cock. He slaps a hand over his mouth just in time to hold back the yelp. 

When Kageyama lets go, Hinata holds onto his shoulder. He needs something steady, even with the bathroom door at his back. Perhaps especially with that door at his back, because the people outside it are fumbling around, trying to get inside. Fortunately, they quickly move to the next stall over instead. 

“Are you gonna fuck me right here, daddy?”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

Hinata is glad he left his hand over his mouth because those words have him chewing at his lip. The noises on the other side of the thin plastic barrier separating are enough to make Hinata hard all over again. Someone is whining, really, truly whining, probably overplaying it a bit but their voice is so sweet and needy that it’s impossible not to react to it. 

And the other person, whomever they are, is talking in a rush, a low, dark, rumbling rush of fevered words. Hinata can practically feel those filthy promises brushing against his own neck. 

“Want it so bad, don’t you? You’re just daddy’s little slut.”

Hinata should be trying to identify the voice. Surely, it’s someone who was just in the karaoke bar with all of them. Yet the words are so distracting that he finds he can’t concentrate on unraveling the mystery right now. 

Plus, whomever is speaking is not using what Hinata assumes is their normal voice. They’re low and breathy and quiet, muffled as though they’re speaking directly into skin, lips pressing the heat of each word against their partner’s throat. 

There’s a rustling of belts and buttons, then a pair of pants falls to the floor, tangled around ankles Hinata can see from beneath the separator between this stall and the next. The pants are soon joined by knees as whomever is in the stall drops down. The separator rattles as a body presses against it.

The moans start in earnest. 

Hinata has to wonder why they even bothered hiding in a stall if they were going to be this loud. No one who walks into this restroom will be confused for even a split second. Beyond any doubt and without the need to see it, Hinata is 100% sure someone is in that stall getting their dick sucked by the person kneeling before them. 

The dirty talk only confirms it. 

“You love having cock in your mouth, don’t you?”

A mumbled affirmation. 

“It’s the only time you shut the fuck up, when that whore mouth is stuffed.” 

“Mmm.” The whine is long and high, rapturous. Hinata imagines a hand threaded through hair, pulling and commanding, jerking their partner’s head up and down their cock. Judging by the wet sounds on the other side of the separator, he suspects he’s not far off.

The person who’s standing must knock their head back in ecstasy because something pounds against the divider, rattling the plastic an instant before a breathy moan issues. 

“Fuck, just like that.” 

Their breaths go long and ragged and Hinata discovers his own are following. He can’t help it. As much as he wants to hold still and silent, what’s happening on the other side of that wall is so incredibly hot that he’s rock hard all over again, the fear that had softened him entirely gone. His hands are still on Kageyama’s shoulders and he suspects he’s digging in far too hard by now. 

He tears his eyes away from that divider and all the things he’s imagining happening against the blank panel of plastic. Looking at Kageyama brings him no relief, however. 

Kageyama is flushed, dark blue eyes watching Hinata intensely. Worst of all, he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Hinata is so desperately tempted to lunge for that lip and pull it into his own mouth that his fingers dig into Kageyama’s shoulders even more forcefully. 

Never would Hinata have guessed that those noises would stir up Kageyama like this. If anything, he’d assumed Kageyama would look angry or frightened or both. That’s why he turned here for relief, for a reprieve from those breathless moans and hot, rough commands. 

Instead, he finds heat. Kageyama’s eyes could burn right through him. Warmth shoots up Hinata’s spine as that gaze pins Hinata against the door of the stall. 

Kageyama’s mouth falls open a little wider and that lip pops free, rosy and plump from Kageyama chewing on it. Hinata can’t resist any longer. He moves one hand to the back of Kageyama’s neck, yanking him down so he can finally suck that lip into his own mouth. Kageyama comes willingly, bracing against the door as he leans down to meet Hinata’s mouth.

Even as they kiss, the sounds on the other side of the wall goad them on. One person is rasping out “yeah, yeah, yeah” in a steady beat while the other moans, muffled by the cock in their mouth. 

Hinata is tempted to moan as well. Kageyama’s mouth is so sweet and hot against his. Yet he dares not; some part of his mind is still rational enough to warn against that. They could still be overheard and discovered. They are still in danger. 

It’s hot as hell.

Kissing Kageyama with someone mere inches away from them, trying not to moan at how delicious his mouth is while someone else is moaning just within reach – it’s obscenely arousing. Hinata is vibrating with energy, with need, with fear and excitement and wrongness and desire.

He knows Kageyama feels the same. His tongue jabs into Hinata’s mouth. For a moment, their mouths open a little and a lusty breath puffs out. Even Kageyama can’t entirely contain himself right now. 

“Fuck, why’d you make me stop?” The voice is roughened. It must be the person who had a cock in their mouth.

“I’m going to come if you keep going like that, idiot.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” 

“Not if you want to fuck me.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Oh.” 

The one on the floor scrambles to their feet. Belts and buckles jangle as pants are hastily shoved down. Two sets of pants around two sets of ankles now. Perhaps if Hinata could get a clearer look he could identify the pants and therefore the people, but that would require him to tear his mouth away from Kageyama’s and that’s not a sacrifice he’s willing to make, not with Kageyama licking into every corner of his mouth, devouring him. 

The shuffling on the other side of the separator gets more intense, intense enough to draw Kageyama and Hinata’s reluctant attention. The pair is moving around. Are they leaving? Part of Hinata thinks that would be a shame, as much as it might let Hinata and Kageyama finish what they’ve started. 

Feet turn all the way around. Someone slams against the divider so hard that both stalls rattle. Whomever is on the other side of the wall is pressed against the divider now. Hinata can just imagine the way they must be pushing their hips back, ass on display. 

There’s a smack, a sharp, practiced crack, and an answering shudder of delight. Hinata shivers in sympathy, ass tingling as though it was him who got slapped. 

Kageyama must feel that shiver because he crowds in closer. Carefully, so very carefully, he turns Hinata around and nudges his pants farther down. They’re mimicking the position of the couple on the other side of the wall, Hinata realizes. He pushes his hips back, feels Kageyama’s cock against him. 

Kageyama doesn’t dare smack him, of course. There’d be no way to muffle that. Instead, his hand sneaks around to grip Hinata’s cock, even as he presses against Hinata’s bare ass. Hinata rolls his hips, grinding against Kageyama, who puffs out a breath against the back of his neck, a breath that ripples all the way down Hinata’s spine and into his toes, which attempt to curl in on themselves. 

Hinata nearly forgets about their counterparts in the other stall as Kageyama rubs against him, his hand working up and down Hinata’s cock, his teeth at Hinata’s shoulder. Then there’s a long, long moan, a breathless whine that sounds like it crawled up from deep within someone’s chest. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” 

“You’re so big.” 

“You can take it.” 

The answer is another moan, a hungry, ravenous noise. It turns into a gasp, a steady beat of gasps. Hinata sees swaying hips, sees hands gripping, sees someone plunging deeper with each thrust while their partner curls their body and pushes back against their cock. 

And all the while Kageyama is rutting against him, his cock heavy against Hinata’s ass. God, how he wishes they had the time or supplies to perfectly mirror what’s going on on the other side of that barrier. To have Kageyama inside him while those sounds are going on right beside him would be too decadent for words. 

For now, he’ll settle for Kageyama’s hand, which is doing an admirable job of jerking up and down Hinata’s length. Hinata rests his forehead forward against the cool plastic of the door, swallowing down his own moans, trying to not even breathe too hard. He has little concept of just how loud he is right now, but surely that couple in the other stall is far out-shouting him. And it _is_ nearly shouting at this point. 

“Harder, harder, f-uuuhhhh-ck.” 

The response is grunts in time with the smack of skin against skin. Then there’s a harder slap, a sharp crack that produces a wild wail of pleasure. 

“Oh god.” It’s a quavering whimper and Hinata trembles in sympathy. His knees feel weak. His cock strains in Kageyama’s hand. He shoves his hips back, trying to get Kageyama somehow closer despite the risk. 

His breath must be getting loud because Kageyama’s hand shifts upward, covering Hinata’s mouth. That’s too cruel. It leaves Hinata’s cock unattended. Hinata darts his tongue out, licking at Kageyama’s fingers, and gets a sharp inhale in response. Kageyama changes from covering Hinata’s mouth to using it, sticking his fingers in, pumping them in and out. 

Kageyama quivers against Hinata as Hinata’s tongue laps at every inch of skin. Finally, he tears those fingers free and returns them back to Hinata’s cock. Spit-slick, Kageyama strokes harder this time, faster, and Hinata bites so hard on his lip he tastes iron and knows he’s drawn blood. 

Hinata covers his mouth with his own hand, letting his breath beat against his skin. He finds he cares less and less about letting go, about moaning the way he wants to, about revealing himself to whomever is also in this bathroom. But Kageyama cares. Kageyama definitely still cares. So Hinata bites on his own fingers and wills himself to quiet his ragged breaths as much as he possibly can. 

God, it’s getting difficult. Kageyama’s fingers are digging in. He’s rutting harder against Hinata, more urgent than before. And his hand is still pumping up and down, controlled and deliberate and skillful despite the way he’s coming apart. 

Overarching all of it are the sounds in the next stall over. 

Whomever is in there is nearly shrieking with each thrust, voice quivering and high. It sounds to Hinata like they must be having the best sex of their life, the best sex of anyone’s life, ever. What if they’re just like this every time? Who in the world are these people and how are the accomplishing whatever’s going on over there? 

Even as his body tightens inward, everything tense and trembling, some little shred of Hinata can’t help wondering about that particular mystery. Whomever it is is having such a god damn good time it’s even effecting him and Kageyama. Those sounds, the beat of the plastic divider, the occasional slap and accompanying shout – they shoot right through Hinata as well, as though some of those noises are coming out of his own throat. He worries for a moment that they are, that he is contributing to the noise, but surely Kageyama wouldn’t still be pumping his cock furiously if that was the case. 

“Ah – ah – _ah_.” 

The sounds are even higher, even louder. The voices bound around the bathroom, fill every bit of air. Hinata feels ready to explode and he presses his hand hard over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut, as though that will somehow reduce the noise, but it’s everywhere now. His body is moving in time with the sounds of someone else’s pleasure and so is Kageyama’s. Hinata can taste the moans with every breath, like they’re filling up his lungs, waiting to rush back out in a cacophonous cascade. 

A longer note strikes, a moan that just goes on and on and on. Hinata can’t help it. He can’t stop it. Everything in his body seizes up, then rushes back out to follow that call. He spills over Kageyama’s hand and against the door of the stall, arching his body, opening his mouth wide as though that howl in the other stall is issuing out of his own throat. 

He deflates as the noise passes, feeling hollowed out. His lungs are utterly depleted. He holds himself up by pressing against the stall door as Kageyama pushes frantically against him, cock squeezed between Hinata’s cheeks. Hinata clenches, trying to give him the extra friction to push him over the edge. A moment later Kageyama releases warm and wet against Hinata’s ass, pressing close, stuttering until each shuddering wave recedes. 

Kageyama slumps heavy against Hinata’s back. Neither of them move. Their breaths are silent again, though Hinata can feel how Kageyama’s chest heaves against his back. 

Hinata is just beginning to think it might be safe to move when a calmer conversation starts in the other stall. 

“Do you think they heard?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Heh, yeah, don’t worry about it. What’s gonna happen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t work for them. You do. Aren’t you worried?”

“Not really.” 

This goes on, but Hinata isn’t really listening. The sound of clothing shuffling is loud enough to cover the quiet conference. 

Works for them. That could mean the karaoke bar, but Hinata thinks it’s way more likely it means the team, the Japanese National Volleyball Team, to be exact. Yet a player would hardly describe themself as “working for the team.” Hinata has never heard himself of any of his teammates talk about it in those kinds of terms. It’s always “playing for the team” or “chosen for the team” or “representing the team.”   
The only people who really “work” for the team are...

The stall door opens. Water runs. Paper towels rustle. 

“God, don’t go out there like that,” a dry voice says. “Your hair is a mess, Kuroo. Even more than usual.” 

Kuroo. 

Kageyama goes stiff against Hinata’s back. 

Works for the team. Has access to the locker rooms. Is in the karaoke bar and getting drunk despite the coach’s rule.

Kuroo.

It’s Kuroo.

“There, is that better? Seriously, what do you even care? You won’t be the one who gets fired.” 

“I don’t.”

“Then just relax. You wanna get in the queue for a song.”

“No.” 

“Aw, c’mon. I bet you have a lovely singing voice. Like a little bird.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” 

The banter goes on, even as Kuroo and his companion finally exit the restroom. 

Hinata spins around the moment they do. He looks at Kageyama, whose eyes are as wide as his own feel. He has no idea what to say, how to summarize this dizzying discovery. It makes a certain amount of sense, he supposes. Kuroo is just a marketing manager. He can do what he wants. He doesn’t need to perform on the court. 

Despite all that, the brazenness with which Kuroo is carrying on with … with whatever the hell he’s doing – it’s a lot, even for Kuroo. 

Surely, the rest of the team doesn’t know. They can’t. Word would get to coach in minutes. Kuroo’s companion was right to be cautious. Kuroo isn’t a player, but behavior like this could still very easily get him fired. If someone besides the team finds out, it could spread further and reflect back on all of Japan during the Olympics. 

“We can’t tell anyone,” Hinata says. “He’ll get fired.”

“I don’t care what he does,” Kageyama says, but it’s so ridiculously false Hinata could laugh. 

Of course Kageyama cares. Kuroo is the one who nearly caught them in the gym. Kuroo is the one giving them those knowing little glances. Kuroo is the one poking his nose around. And now Kageyama has something to leverage against him. 

“Seriously,” Hinata says. “It’s harmless anyway, so who cares?”

“I don’t,” Kageyama says. He moves away, gathers up toilet paper to clean off his hand. 

Hinata cleans himself up too. It doesn’t make for the best environment for a serious conversation, wiping off cum and navigating awkwardly around each other to get their clothes back on straight, but Hinata fears where this could go now that Kageyama is armed with this bit of information. 

He stops Kageyama before he can leave the stall, holds both of his hands, peers up into his eyes. “This was fun.” 

Kageyama swallows. “Yeah.” 

“I’m glad you asked me. I’m glad we did this.” 

Heat rises into Kageyama’s face, as though this is more embarrassing for him than what they just did. “I am too. We can’t stay in here all night.” 

“I know,” Hinata says. Even so, he rises up to kiss Kageyama, to contrast the noise and flurry and excitement with something lingering and soft. “This whole experience is pretty crazy, huh? Really seems to get people’s blood pounding.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Kageyama looks hesitant, but he isn’t pulling away. He isn’t running. Not yet. 

“I’m kinda glad,” Hinata says. “Everyone seems to be just … going all out, you know? And not just in volleyball. There’s something nice about that. I kinda just want to let it be. I don’t want this to end before it has to.” He’s babbling, thoughts overlapping, but now that he’s started it’s all coming out in a rush. “I just want everyone to live in this weird, crazy moment. It’s bizarre and exciting and it’s going to be over before we even realize it, but I want everyone to just _be here_ for right now. Does that make sense?” 

Kageyama eases out of Hinata’s hold, yet a smile tugs at one side of his mouth. He cups the side of Hinata’s face and this time he’s the one who leans down to press their mouths together.

“No,” Kageyama says. “It doesn’t make a bit of sense, but I understand. And … I want that too.” 

Hinata wants to ask a million questions. He doesn’t think Kageyama is talking just about them or just about Kuroo. He’s too afraid to press, though. Kageyama isn’t running and he isn’t mad and he isn’t afraid. He’s calm, relaxed, smiling just a little as he leaves the stall and goes to the sink. 

He turns when he notices that Hinata hasn’t followed. 

“I’m gonna wait a bit,” Hinata says. “Better if we don’t leave together and all that.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Then … I’ll see you out there.” 

“Yeah,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama hesitates, almost like he’s about to say more, then he just shakes his head and leaves the bathroom.

Hinata sighs, slouching against the wall. By the time he finally leaves the bathroom, Bokuto is searching for him, but even when he slings an arm over Hinata’s shoulders and drags him back onto the stage for another duet, a part of Hinata is still far away, adrift in the pull of the strange tide dragging him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! It was Kuroo! So many of you guessed this in comments and you were right! But I'm still keeping the other one a secret for now :P 
> 
> This fic updates every two weeks!
> 
>  **Next time:** Kageyama has some sex dreams and some feelings to deal with. Also: Kuroo wants to have a chat.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama struggles with dreams and fantasies. Kuroo confronts him.

There is someone behind Kageyama. They run their hand over his ass, kiss along his spine, drip honeyed words onto his heated skin. 

Hinata. It’s Hinata. His whole body realizes it and shivers with that delicious knowledge. It’s always been Hinata. How could he have had any doubt? 

It doesn’t matter now with those lips on his skin, those hands guiding him. Sensation gets lost, confused, murky. Kageyama can’t seem to concentrate on any one thing. All he knows is that he’s on his hands and knees, waiting, trembling with need. 

This is different, he realizes. He’s always been the one in control when it comes to Hinata. He’s always been dictating and directing. Now he’s waiting to receive and it’s strange and frightening but also so, so enticing. 

It doesn’t feel like much, when it finally happens. That’s strange, isn’t it? He doesn’t care. It feels like _something_ and sends heat flushing through him and that’s enough, more than enough. Kageyama moans and shifts his hips. 

Hinata is back there swaying. He grips Kageyama’s hips to pull him back, but Kageyama is eager to help, to shove himself back and get _more_. God, why isn’t there more? It’s never enough, no matter how he tries to slam back and spear himself on Hinata’s cock. 

Kageyama’s gut tightens, everything bunching in close and tense. His own cock is hard and needy and he scrambles to reach it.

#

Kageyama wakes. 

He’s so hard it’s painful, so hard he can’t pause for even a second to wonder about the dream. His eyes haven’t even opened fully before he starts pumping himself furiously, clinging to the fading edges of the dream. 

Hinata behind him, fucking him. They’ve never tried that, but suddenly Kageyama finds the thought so infuriatingly tempting that he’s squirming his free hand under himself to prod at his rim.

The touch sets aching nerves ablaze. He doesn’t even do much more than press and feel, but it cracks like lightning through his whole body. He ruts into his own hand, stroking harder and faster, trying not to let rational thought interfere with this moment. 

The finger beneath him pokes inside. It’s just a little, but it sends a tremor through him. Suddenly he needs more, but there isn’t a good way to get it, not when he’s careening toward his edge. He already wishes he could … he could … do more, do it differently ( _do this but with Hinata,_ a traitorous voice in his mind whispers, but that thought burns right through him and shoves him over the edge). 

He comes over his hand. His body tries to clench at the finger tentatively poking at his ass but it’s not deep enough, not this time. 

He’s still coming down, sweaty and soiled in his bed, as the thought _not enough_ flashes through his mind. God help him, but his body already wants more, way more. A dream isn’t the real thing and Kageyama knows even as his body cools to coherence that he’s not going to be able to hold off for long, not when he knows Hinata would be willing. Hell, _eager_. It’s so easily within his grasp, if he’s willing to reach for it. 

Kageyama rolls out of bed and hurries to the shower, letting cool water run over his head. 

Nothing has worked. Nothing. He tried to stay away in the beginning. Now, more recently, he’s been giving in, indulging in what his body so obviously wants. Hinata has been here again, at night, after the rest of the team is sleeping. A single text gets Kageyama what he wants, what he needs. Every time, he tells himself this will be the last time, that he’s sated at last. And it makes no difference. The stubborn hunger always returns.

And now this? Now this new, specific desire? What in the world is he going to do with this? Deny it until he cracks, he knows, even as he curses himself for it. But what choice does he have? It’s that or give in immediately. Either way he’ll hate himself for it.

Because that’s the true problem. That’s the thing that has him standing in cold showers every morning. The loathing Kageyama feels toward himself is an obnoxious constant no matter which extreme he skews toward. It doesn’t matter if he fucks Hinata or not. 

He’ll feel like shit either way.

Kageyama lingers in the shower, unsure if he wants to sink down and cry or start punching at the wall until his fist bleeds. The whole conundrum would be infinitely more bearable if it didn’t come with this burden of reproach. 

Every day, as desire creeps up, filling his stomach in place of a more tolerable hunger, rising up his throat to drown him, he wonders who he’s letting down most – himself or the rest of his team. Can they see that he’s off? _Is_ he off? Kageyama doesn’t even know anymore. He feels both in peak form and a bumbling fool every time he’s on the court. 

Ultimately, he neither cries nor lashes out. He just stands under the water, caught between extremes until he gives up, turns off the shower and prepares for the match to come.

#

They win. It isn’t even all that difficult.

Kageyama is almost disappointed by the ease with which he reads the other team. His spikers have it good today; his sets are automatic, placing his teammates in positions where they almost _can’t_ miss. The holes are so obvious, like shining beacons. All Kageyama has to do is nudge the ball in the correct direction and the rest is pre-determined.

There will be tougher opponents, he knows, but not today. Not here. Today, it’s as simple as breathing.

Or perhaps, Kageyama thinks as he watches Hinata leaping around and celebrating, it’s a little easier than breathing. 

It’s strange how quickly the ache returns. If only playing volleyball was hard enough right now to fill his whole head, but no, he even had time for _that_ during the match. He had time to watch Hinata soar into the air, to admire him diving for receives, to thrill every time Hinata shouted a “nice set!” at him.

The most shocking part is probably that it made no difference. 

It didn’t trip Kageyama up at all. It almost … damn it, it almost made him play better. He knows it, even while he’s standing around in a post-game huddle trying to catch his breath alongside his jubilant teammates. Those smiles and calls from Hinata didn’t cause Kageyama to stumble; they made him work harder, gave him a surge of energy, of drive, that made his sets even more crisp.

Shit.

Coach is talking. Then there’s the cameras, the interviews, a bow for the crowd who cheered them on, a crowd that is starting to appreciate that they’ll see a lot more of this Japanese National Team during the Olympics. News is spreading quickly about how good they are. The world is taking them seriously. 

Reporters follow them to the locker room. Coach takes care of most of them. Kuroo pitches in as well, helping to fend them off and give the athletes space to shower and change and just breathe for a second. 

There will be no celebratory meal this time. The schedule is going to ramp up now that games are underway. They can’t go out carousing every time they win. 

Kageyama doesn’t care. It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t find himself in another karaoke bar, sober or not. The energy even in a smelly locker room is enough to have his heart beating faster than it ought. Not to mention that Hinata is shirtless and chatting with Atsumu and doesn’t even seem to notice or care and _why_ is he just standing there like that? Is he taunting Kageyama or something? 

Kageyama shakes his head and concentrates on his locker. Never has he put so much thought into throwing on a shirt and jeans. In the back of his head, he already knows they’ll come right back off the second he returns to his hotel room. The game is over but adrenaline is still coursing through his body, making his blood too hot. Not to mention the … other things making him warm. He’s going to need to release the pressure again soon. 

He gathers his bag and heads for the exit, meaning to slip away before anyone bothers noticing him. He nearly makes it, too. He’s out of the locker room, hurrying down a hallway that will let him out of the back of the arena rather than the front, when a hand lands on his shoulder. 

Kageyama startles, whirling. Kuroo puts up his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Hey, whoa, sorry,” Kuroo says. 

“What are you doing?” Kageyama says. 

Kuroo is dressed in a suit, his hair tidier than usual. He almost looks like an actual professional. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Kuroo says. “I was just hoping to talk.” 

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Geeze, I didn’t even say anything yet. You can be a little intense, you know that?” 

Kageyama just goes on glaring at him, waiting. If Kuroo doesn’t have something pressing to talk about very soon, Kageyama is leaving. 

“Listen, I just--” Kuroo shoots a glance down the hall toward the locker room, but no one is going in or out right now. Kageyama rushed through getting his things and leaving. Most of the rest of the team hadn’t even showered yet, still high on their victory and talking excitedly. Hinata’s cheeks had been flushed with color, rosy with joy due to the win. It was-- 

Kageyama must shake himself visibly because Kuroo says, “Hey, are you alright?” 

“What do you want?” Kageyama says. 

“OK, look, I...” Kuroo says. “I don’t really know how to talk about this.” 

Kageyama tenses. Something in Kuroo’s cautious bearing sounds an alarm in Kageyama’s mind. He’s fidgeting from foot to foot, looking unsure and nervous rather than cocky. Kuroo is usually smirking about something, but his easy grin is gone now. Kageyama’s gut clenches. 

“If you have nothing worthwhile to say then leave me alone,” Kageyama says. “I have better things to do than stand around here.” 

He doesn’t. Not really. Not unless touching himself again counts as “better things to do.” 

Kageyama chides himself for that thought. He already had that humiliating moment this morning. Can his body just leave him alone for one evening? 

Something churns in his stomach, providing the unfortunate answer to that question. 

God, he needs to get out of here. And Kuroo is still just fidgeting and fussing and not saying whatever is so desperately important to say.

“What?” Kageyama snaps. “What do you want?” 

“Fine.” Kuroo throws up his hands. “I just wanted to say that you … that this is … it’s special. Being here. It’s really special. And you should, you know, maybe take advantage of that.” 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Kageyama says.

“Ah, come on,” Kuroo says. “You know. Like … just...” 

Kageyama just waits, against his better judgment. He doesn’t need to entertain this inane babbling. Kuroo has been acting strange and erratic the whole time they’ve been here as a team. Knowing why hasn’t made Kageyama exactly sympathetic, either. That whole … issue … in the restroom of the karaoke bar makes Kageyama think less of Kuroo rather than pity him. 

_Hypocrite._

“If you have nothing to say, I’m leaving,” Kageyama says. “I don’t need this.”

He pauses, just for a moment, but Kuroo just keeps fidgeting. Kageyama gives up and starts walking away, glad for the strange encounter to simply be over. He only makes it a single step before Kuroo grabs him by the arm. 

“Wait,” Kuroo says. “I’m serious.”

Kageyama glares down at the hand on his arm, but doesn’t fight the hold. He’s too exhausted – both physically and mentally – to do more than snarl. Kuroo has him firmly and doesn’t seem intent on letting go. 

“Why did he make me do this?” Kuroo mutters under his breath. He’s shaking his head, having a private argument with someone Kageyama can’t see, even while that hand goes on gripping. 

“Look,” Kuroo finally says, glancing up, face uncharacteristically somber, “I just think you should take advantage of, you know, everything this whole thing has to offer. Don’t let it slip away for the sake of pride.” 

Kageyama jerks his arm free, but doesn’t leave. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at Kuroo. “I am,” Kageyama says. “We’re winning.”

Kuroo waves. “Yeah, yeah, volleyball and all that.”

“Volleyball is the reason we’re here. It’s the reason I’m here, at least.”

“Is it?” 

The sly look Kageyama remembers returns to Kuroo’s eyes, those perceptive, feline eyes. 

“I’m just saying,” Kuroo says, “that this is about more than winning. It’s about more than volleyball. And I know you understand that so don’t play dumb.”

Kageyama grinds his teeth instead of responding.

Kuroo rubs at the back of his head. “Don’t miss out on the other stuff just because you’re being stubborn, alright? That’s all I wanted to say.” Lower, under his breath, he adds, “Now maybe he’ll get off my back about it.” 

“Who will?” 

Kuroo startles. “Huh?” 

“You said ‘he’ will get off your back. Who?” 

“Oh.” Color seeps into Kuroo’s face. “Oh, no one.” 

Kageyama should stop, he should just let it go, but it feels so much better to have Kuroo on the back foot all of a sudden. He can’t resist pushing, if only because it takes the pressure off of him. He doesn’t have to think about what Kuroo said, why he said it, how much he might know. He doesn’t have to roll the words over and over in his head. He doesn’t have to acknowledge the cold, churning fear clenching his stomach. So he goes on pushing.

Kageyama jabs a finger at Kuroo’s chest. “Hypocrite.” 

“What?”

“You’re a hypocrite.” It’s the accusation his own mind flung at him only moments ago, but it feels so, so much better to lob it at someone else. “You came here to interrupt me and spew some nonsense about … about whatever that was, but here you are sneaking around yourself.”

Kuroo’s eyes go a little wider. He backs away, but Kageyama follows until Kuroo’s back is against a wall and he can’t escape Kageyama’s glare. 

“You aren’t fooling anyone,” Kageyama says. “I know you’re slinking around. I know about karaoke. I know you were in the locker room the other day. Tell me, that night you showed up in the gym, was that another of your escapades?” 

Kuroo squirms but does not respond.

Kageyama tsks. “Disgusting. Though it makes sense you’d come here and lecture me about how this is about more than volleyball. Is it about volleyball _at all_ for you?”

“Of course.” Kuroo’s voice is soft, though. It’s lost all its authority and bite. 

Kageyama sneers, snorting his incredulity. 

At last, he turns away. The exit isn’t far, but it takes all his control not to run to it. Perhaps he was overly cruel just now, but it doesn’t matter. Not as long as he can get away and stop having this ridiculous conversation. 

“There’s a middle ground, you know.” Kuroo calls after him, words washing across Kageyama’s back. “I might be a fuck up, but don’t pretend you’re any better, Kageyama. Yeah, I’m not exactly being cautious, but it’s still true – this isn’t just about volleyball. Hate me all you want, but I know some part of you agrees with me. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing there hesitating, would you?”

Would he? Is it true? Is some piece of him actually agreeing with Kuroo? 

Kageyama scowls. That’s ridiculous, especially coming from Kuroo, whose antics are likely even more outrageous and outlandish than Kageyama knows about. Kageyama is nothing like him, nothing at all, and he’s certainly not _missing_ something by focusing on volleyball. 

“Neither of you are playing poorly just because you’re fucking,” Kuroo says. 

Kageyama’s blood goes completely cold. He turns, slowly and deliberately. Kuroo backs away from whatever look is on his face, putting up his hands, but those prove a flimsy defense when Kageyama stomps toward him and shoves him against the wall. Kuroo grunts. Some piece of Kageyama knows he pushed too hard, but it’s drowned out by raw rage.

“You don’t know anything,” Kageyama growls.

“Hey, I was just--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kageyama says. He gives Kuroo a little shove for emphasis. “How I’m playing is none of your god damn business, but you better pray I don’t make what you’re doing the coach’s business, understood?”

Kuroo frowns. He almost looks sad rather than angry. Why doesn’t he just look angry? 

“Yeah,” he says in a sigh, “yeah, I got it.” 

Kageyama pushes himself away. This time, when he starts for the door, he’s positive nothing will stop him. He’s getting out of here and to the quiet comfort of his empty hotel room room at long last. 

“Can’t say I didn’t try,” Kuroo mutters somewhere behind him. 

But Kageyama isn’t listening. He’s long past listening. He’s leaving and god willing he’ll think about nothing but volleyball for the rest of the night.

He can hear Kuroo laughing at him in his mind even as the thought strikes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe there's only four chapters left! See you in two weeks :) 
> 
> **Next Time:** Things get risky.
> 
> \-- 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coach has a word with Hinata.

Hinata leaps and the ball is there, waiting for him, exactly where he needs it to be. Perfect.

#

Kageyama has been coming to his room. There’s usually some contrived excuse. “I forgot something.” “We should go over strategy.” “I need to borrow a towel.” Hinata doesn’t push it, accepts whatever reason Kageyama offers. They’re not for Hinata, anyway.

#

He cocks his arm back, scans the defenders before him. The court is open on the other side of the net. The path is clear, almost glowing. All he has to do is follow it.

#

Kageyama never retrieves what he lost or talks through strategy or borrows towels when he visits. The rush is intense and immediate. The moment the door closes and the world is gone, he pounces.

#

Hinata swings, connecting with the ball. It slams onto the court. The whistle blows. His team is cheering before he even touches the ground again.

#

As soon as it’s over, as soon as he can, Kageyama leaves, still flushed and disheveled. He can’t possibly be fooling even himself.

#

Hinata scans the court. Kageyama offers him a little nod. 

“Nice set,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama says nothing and turns away.

#

Hinata never asks him to stay, never even tells him goodbye. He never pushes it. Still, Kageyama runs.

#

Brazil’s Olympic team is formidable. The point Hinata just scored helps, but perhaps not enough. Japan still trails by six points. Closing that gap gets more unlikely every time Brazil gets to serve. They’ve got a monster back there serving, someone who can even give Sakusa trouble and isn’t afraid to target him. 

Japan is far from out of the game, though. They’re punching through the blockers, as Hinata just has, and that means they have an opportunity to win. Kageyama’s setting carried them through the first set. Brazil came back in the second and third before Japan held them off in the fourth to force things to a fifth set. Now both teams feel like they’ve got a read on the other. It’s simply a matter of who will stumble first. 

Hinata swaps out with Atsumu. It puts more tall blockers on the line while Brazil’s ace is in the front row. Still, it’s torture to watch the match from the sidelines. 

A score by Bokuto closes the gap just a fraction more. Five points now. 

“Nice kill,” Hinata screams from the sidelines.

Unlike Kageyama, Bokuto acknowledges the compliment. He winks over at Hinata, all cocksure confidence. 

They get one more point, closing the gap to four points, before Brazil wrests control away. Ushijima receives the spike, but it’s a little wide and Atsumu has to run out of his way to try to set it. Even for Bokuto, it’s an awkward ball to go for and Brazil is able to knock the spike back up into the air. 

Atsumu sprints toward the line, crouching beside Kageyama. Brazil’s ace is loping across the court, lanky and unhurried, but Hinata has seen the power he can unleash at the top of spike. 

Atsumu and Kageyama leap. Hinata tenses. _Too early!_ Surely they’ll already be coming back down before the spike starts. 

Sure enough, Brazil’s ace aims high. But he and Hinata realize in the same instant that that was the plan all along.

The spike grazes off Atsumu’s fingertips, an easy, high floater that Sakusa bumps back into the air.

Kageyama is waiting under it. Attackers sweep in. Brazil cringes back, seeing their mistake, but it’s too late.

Kageyama’s set is immaculate. While everyone is looking left, he shoots the ball right – directly to Ushijima, who slams a line drive spike down the side of the court.

Hinata screams. The crowd screams. Japan takes back the serve. Coach waves for Hinata to get ready to head back in and he leaps to the line, eager to get another rotation near the net. As he’s waiting, he sees Ushijima slap Kageyama on the shoulder and something in him aches. He could never do that. Never. Not here on the court. Even though Kageyama comes to his room more nights than he doesn’t, a friendly gesture like that remains absolutely out of reach.

The refs motion and Hinata has to shake himself out of his thoughts and trot onto the court. Bokuto gives him a high five as they pass.

“Get ‘em, Shorty,” Bokuto says.

“No problem.” 

Hinata takes his place on the court, right up close to the net. The defender on the other side is tall, but so is just about everyone Hinata goes up against. The defender’s attempts to sneer down at Hinata and intimidate him didn’t work two sets ago and it sure as hell isn’t going to work now. 

The serve goes up. The defender keeps staring at Hinata, even while his team receives. His eyes fixate on Hinata as his teammates shuffle around to set up their attack. 

When Yaku gets the receive and Kageyama runs under the ball to set it, that defender is still watching, still tracing Hinata’s every move. 

Hinata knows he’s being watched when he starts running. He knows that defender is setting up to block him. He knows when he leaps there will be hands waiting to stuff him back down.

And Kageyama knows it too.

Kageyama looks right at Hinata. Their eyes lock across the court. Hinata sprints into action, running at full speed, holding nothing back. He leaps, cocks his arm...

And smiles at the defender jumping up to meet him.

The ball isn’t there. It was never coming. 

On the other end of the court, Ushijima scores another point for Japan. 

Hinata lands, still grinning. The defender glares between Hinata and Kageyama, muttering to himself even as he rotates away. 

“Good read,” Ushijima says to Kageyama.

When Hinata looks over, Kageyama catches his eyes again, a briefer look this time, but Hinata holds it as long as he can. When they’re in sync like this they’re absolutely devastating and everyone knows it, especially their opponents. If Kageyama would just acknowledge it instead of running from it, they’d leave a trail of devastated defenders just like the one on Brazil’s back line now.

It’s a problem for another time. The serve is going up again and Hinata needs to be ready. They haven’t been able to get many aces on Brazil, which means lots of long volleys. Both teams are utterly exhausted, sweat dripping to the court, but they can’t stop.

The gap narrows to two before Brazil battles back, holding things there. They hit 20-21 before Japan fights to be within one point, but any mistake now will cost them the entire game.

21-22

22-23

23-24

And then Japan finally evens it up. Atsumu is serving next. If they can hold here, they’ll have a real chance. 

24-24

25-24

Japan has the edge. They just have to hold it. One more point, one more point and they’ll claim another victory and advance closer to the Olympic finals.

But Brazil seizes that point, ties things up again. It’s like an arm wrestling match more than a volleyball match, each side grunting and straining, locked in an even bout. 

Japan gets a lucky receive. The serve wasn’t quite as strong as it should have been. Everything quiets, dragging into slow motion as Kageyama gets under the ball. 

Every attacker flinches into motion. Hinata is no more sure than anyone else where Kageyama will go, but if he chooses correctly this will end the match and secure them the win. One set – one set and it’s over.

Hinata starts to sprint. The quick attack is open, if he can get there in time. He doesn’t know if Kageyama will use it, but it gives them another tempo, a beat between the beats, something harder to predict. Hinata thinks he’s got the defense beaten until that tall, glaring defender locks onto him again. The defender will be too late, but only if Hinata and Kageyama are perfectly on time and hit the quick attack the fastest they can.

There is a moment of weightlessness as everything clicks into place. One step and Hinata throws his arms back, another and he sinks his weight down into his feet, a third and he launches into the air, perfectly on time.

The ball is there.

Brazil’s defender is a step behind. No matter how he shouts and glares, it won’t make any difference. Hinata doesn’t even hit his spike particularly hard. It isn’t about power – it’s about precision. And he and Kageyama are deviously precise.

The crowd and his team are cheering even before Hinata returns to the court. He’s instantly swallowed up in hugs as teammates pile on, nearly knocking him flat on his ass in their exuberance. He’s screaming too, shouting at the ceiling, expelling every last bit of energy he’s got left after this exhausting match. 

He’s wobbly when his teammates give him a breath of space, slapping him on the shoulders now instead of tackling him with hugs. Kageyama stands at the net, staring at it, those deep blue eyes empty. He’s replaying every moment of that set, Hinata knows, taking apart every flinch and movement and instant of decision. Is he wondering why he chose Hinata? Did he do it on instinct? 

Hinata trots up to him. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. He just knows that waves of celebration are washing through him, tingling like electricity in his limbs, and he’s got to get it all out before he bursts. 

Kageyama sees Hinata coming. He very nearly smiles. 

Hinata doesn’t consciously make the decision to hug him, but that’s exactly how things end up, with Hinata squeezing Kageyama against him.

For an instant, Kageyama doesn’t even seem to mind. 

Then he jerks away, stepping back, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Hinata tries to salvage what he can.

“That set,” he says, “was seriously incredible.” 

Kageyama doesn’t respond, but his mouth twists like he’s fighting with the words. 

“You were so on today,” Hinata says. “We couldn’t have won without you.”

Kageyama still looks like he’s trying to pick one noodle out of an entire bowl of ramen. He settles on just “Thanks” before he turns away and joins the rest of their team.

The chilly reception sobers Hinata’s joy. He’s still glad they won, of course, but he and Kageyama working together was a big part of that win. Even Coach says so during the post-game huddle in the locker room.

It’s fine, he decides as he showers. They still won and that’s what matters.

Hinata spends too long under the hot water. Beneath the hiss of the shower, he hears teammates filtering out, chatting about the game and what to eat tonight as they abandon the locker room. The quiet is cavernous and empty. Hinata felt so good after that spike, so electrified, but now he’s alone in the locker room, pruning in the shower because the hot water feels so much better than going out there and being cold again. 

He eventually convinces himself to turn off the water and towel off. He doesn’t even bother wrapping the towel around his waist. There’s no one here but him so when he leaves the stall he’s still fluffing through his hair, completely naked and exposed. 

Someone makes a choked off noise.

Hinata freezes, towel flying down to cover himself, but it’s just Kageyama. He sighs, securing the towel around his waist as he pads toward his locker.

“Forget something?” Hinata says. 

Kageyama makes a non-committal sound. 

Hinata ignores him while he dresses. If Kageyama still can’t even manage basic pleasantries, Hinata isn’t going to drag them out of him. He’ll probably be in Hinata’s room tonight either way and bitter as Hinata feels right now about the coldness, he’s sure he’ll give in again. He always crumbles before those deep blue eyes when they bore into his, hungry and intent. He always forgets how fucked this is when Kageyama’s mouth and hands are on him, dragging him into bed. 

He gets his jeans on with his back still to Kageyama. Eyes prickle along his back like fingertips. It’s probably just paranoia, he thinks, yet when he turns he finds Kageyama still there, sitting on the bench between the lockers. He’s slouched forward and when Hinata meets his gaze he hangs his head. 

Hinata doesn’t bother with his shirt. “Hey, are you alright?” he says. 

Kageyama looks up with an obvious effort. “What the hell are we doing?”

“Huh?”

Kageyama heaves a sigh. “You were amazing in that game,” he says. 

“So were you,” Hinata says. “That last set was perfect, even for you.” 

Kageyama watches Hinata, eerily silent as his eyes roam over Hinata’s bare chest. He stands with a jerk. Two long, swift strides take him to Hinata, who backs up against the lockers. Kageyama’s hand slams against the metal beside Hinata’s head, causing a clattering commotion. Hinata flinches. When he opens his eyes, Kageyama is leaning in close, furious and intent, eyes and cheeks alight. 

Hinata hardly dares breathe. It’s one thing to see this at night in the privacy of a hotel room, but this is a locker room anyone could walk into any moment. 

“Why do I want you so much?” Kageyama says.

Hinata blinks. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say to that. Kageyama looks like a single word will drive him either to fucking or fighting. 

“Kuroo said...” Kageyama trails off.

“Kuroo?” 

Kageyama takes Hinata’s chin in his hand, holding a little too tight. “What am I supposed to do about this?” 

“I don’t know,” Hinata says. It’s the truth. He has no idea. He thought it could be fine, no big deal, but clearly that isn’t the case. “If … if it’s torturing you so much, we could stop.”

Kageyama actually winces, as though the very notion causes him pain. “What if I can’t?” 

Hinata swallows. _Can’t._

He eases Kageyama’s hand off his chin, but keeps a hold of it. “Whatever Kuroo said, he was probably just trying to mess with you. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

Kageyama snorts a bitter laugh. “He told me...” Kageyama slides his hand along Hinata’s jaw, cupping his face, drawing him so close each word brushes against Hinata’s lips. “He told me not to miss something.” 

“Like what?”

Kageyama freezes. Hinata struggles to hold still, not to push too much, even with those lips so close a memory of their taste tingles on Hinata’s tongue. 

A door deeper in the locker room opens.

Kageyama jerks back all at once, that heat and taste evaporating. Hinata gasps, trying to capture any lingering scent, but Kageyama is already gathering his things and rushing for the door, even as Coach Hibarida strides into the the locker room.

Kageyama pauses only long enough to nod at the coach before sweeping out of the locker room. 

Hibarida turns his gaze to Hinata, shirtless and flushed against the lockers. Hinata tries to gather himself, but Coach just sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t think anyone was still here,” Coach says. 

“Sorry,” Hinata says.

“No, it’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” He paces closer. “Is he always like that after you two win a match for us?” 

Hinata attempts a smile. “Like what?” 

Coach Hibarida cocks a smile and settles on the bench where Kageyama previously sat. He clasps his hands between his knees, fatherly as he gazes up at Hinata. “He isn’t as sneaky as he thinks he is.” 

Heat rushes into Hinata’s cheeks, but there’s no point even trying to stuff it down. He lets out the breath trapped in his chest, shoulders slumping, and sits beside the coach. “Gonna tell us to stop?”

“No. You’re adults.”

“It’s detrimental to the team.”

“Is it?” Coach Hibarida says. “Do you really think I’d say nothing for this long if it was?”

Hinata rolls that over in his mind. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Definitely not. My job isn’t to coach your personal lives, just your volleyball performance. But...”

Hinata dares a glance over at the coach. “But?”

Hibarida shrugs. “Can he handle this?”

It isn’t a hypothetical. Coach is really asking him, truly seeking his opinion, and Hinata has no idea what to say. 

“Is he going to crack?” Hibardia says. “Is there going to be some outburst or incident? You tell me, Hinata. Should I intervene? Should I be concerned? I wasn’t at first, figured you two would work it out, but he’s not fooling anyone. He comes to practice wound tight as a spring. He still performs at the top of his game, but we’re getting toward the finals. Will he hold on? When the pressure of the games ramps up, will he crack?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata says. His stomach churns. It’s been weeks and Kageyama is no less freaked out, no less jittery and nervous. Apparently Hinata isn’t even the only one who’s tried to reach him, but neither he nor Kuroo seem to be making things any better. 

He reaches a horrible conclusion, but he owes it to his entire team to be honest about this. “He might crack,” Hinata says. “It might get to him.”

Coach grimaces, but nods. “Yeah, I suspected that.” His eyes lock on Hinata. “And what about you? Can you do it? If you need to, can you choose volleyball?”

“Yes.” There isn’t even a beat of hesitation. The answer is obvious the moment Coach asks. 

Hibarida pats Hinata’s shoulder, leaving his hand there. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

Hinata’s chest clenches tight. “For what?”

“I’m sorry it’s your job to be the responsible one,” he says. “I’m sorry I have to ask you for this. But … look, do what you want after the Olympics. But if it comes down to it, wait until after. For the team.”

“How will I know if I have to … have to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Hibarida says. He gives Hinata’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll have to make the call.”

“What if I make the wrong one?”

“You won’t.” 

Hibarida gives Hinata a final pat as he stands. He smiles as he starts away. 

“Coach,” Hinata calls. Hibarida pauses and turns to him. “It won’t be a problem. I’ve got this. We’re going to keep winning, no matter what.”

Hibarida nods. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be back in ONE WEEK instead of two! I'm going to try to put out these last chapters at a rate of one per week so I can finish this story in December. Then I have PLANS to announce (Haikyuu related plans). So check out my twitter if you're interested in that or just stay tuned to see if these dummies manage to get it together by the end :) 
> 
> **Next time:** An old friend decides to intervene in the situation and takes a hands on approach.
> 
> \-- 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama has blown it. He knows it. He knows he's fucked this up beyond repair, fucked up _everything_. 
> 
> He finds comfort in an unlikely place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all gonna hate me for this one. Sorry.

The next time Kageyama knocks on Hinata’s door, there’s no answer.

He only tries once, lingering in the hallway, each second dropping a stone into his stomach. He won’t embarrass himself by knocking again. He won’t grovel at this closed door like some pathetic dog whining for scraps.

Kageyama turns on his heel. He shouldn’t have come here in the first place. He’s glad Hinata didn’t answer. Maybe he’s asleep, maybe he’s not, but either way, this simply helps Kageyama make the choice he should have made weeks ago. 

He hurries down the hall. If he happens to slam the door when he returns to his own room, it’s purely accidental.

#

He botches the set.

Kageyama knows it the moment it touches his fingertips, knows it as the weight sinks into his hands. It’s off, just a little. He’s off. When he pushes the ball back up, it falls short.

Ushijima still hits it, but it’s low. Kageyama fails to utilize his largest attacker to his fullest ability. 

The other team knows it. He feels Netherlands’s eyes on him. Normally, Kageyama might glare back, might challenge those looks and dare them to keep staring, but today he just hangs his head and shuffles into position. 

His opponents aren’t the only ones who notice, of course. The next set is hardly better and the moment Kageyama is supposed to rotate, Coach Hibarida swaps him out instead. 

Coach says nothing and neither does Kageyama, but their eyes lock for a moment. Coach’s narrow, just a fraction, and everything in Kageyama goes cold. 

It’s the same look from a week ago, the same look when he caught Kageyama and Hinata in the locker room. Kageyama fled, but he wishes he hadn’t. He wishes he’d at least lingered outside the door. Something happened after he left. He’s absolutely sure of it. That locked door isn’t even the only clue. Hinata steers wide of him. Kageyama can’t remember the last time he saw those eyes sneaking a look at him across a table or court. Kageyama may as well have disappeared. 

Sometimes, Hinata will still look at him during practice, but even then it’s cold and clinical. He’s really looking for the ball, sizing up the set. He isn’t seeing Kageyama at all. 

Not like how he looks at Atsumu.

Atsumu is out there setting now while Kageyama shifts and grumbles on the sidelines. He launches one to Hinata, who slams it over the net, right between defenders’ hands. 

It’s a great spike, a fantastic point, and the whole team cheers. Hinata bounces over to Atsumu, slapping his hand for a high five, and Atsumu looks at him like Hinata is the sun itself.

Kageyama knows that look, feels it ache in his own chest. Hinata smiles, oblivious to how bright he is. 

Bitterness coils in Kageyama’s belly that Atsumu should be the one to bask in that brilliance. Maybe it isn’t that Coach said or did anything last week. Maybe … maybe Kageyama’s been replaced, as easily as swapping out players on the volleyball court. 

Atsumu and Hinata have known each other a while. They’re on the same team now. They’re probably way closer than Kageyama could ever hope to be. And Astumu isn’t … isn’t like him, isn’t sulky and sullen and biting, a cloud covering up the sun. It only makes sense that Hinata would make that kind of trade. 

It still hurts. 

Kageyama grinds his teeth, watching the game but not really seeing it. Atsumu is brilliant, both serving and setting, and Japan wins the set. When the team returns to huddle and discuss the next set, Kageyama barely hears Coach’s voice through the noise in his head. 

He doesn’t go back in for the rest of the game. 

It’s the right choice, even Kageyama knows it, but that doesn’t make it sting any less. He has to watch his team win from the sidelines, hands itching for a volleyball but horribly empty. Atsumu is tired by the end, but Japan takes it in four sets. He’s more than capable of keeping up his form for that amount of time. 

Kuroo’s voice rings in Kageyama’s mind and of all the voices that could be giving him a disembodied pep talk right now, that’s about the last fucking one he wants to hear. Where is Kuroo anyway? Not here at the match like he should be, that’s for sure. Kageyama can’t find Kuroo anywhere among the Team Japan players and staff. He’s probably sleeping in or slacking off; certainly he’s not someone Kageyama should be looking to for advice. 

The game finally ends and Kageyama has never been so eager to leave a volleyball court. He doesn’t even shower, just waits out the pep talks, grabs his shit and leaves.

#

There will be one more match. Just one.

Argentina awaits them. Argentina and Oikawa Tooru of all people.

Kageyama spends the days before the match doing everything possible to get into the right mindset. It will be beyond humiliating to lose to that swaggering braggart out of all the fucking people who could reappear right now. Oikawa makes for a great story though – a high school volleyball star who went off and became a naturalized citizen of a different country and now returns to Japan to play his own nation for the gold. The media eats it up, which means Kageyama has to see Oikawa’s god damn grinning face just about everywhere he goes. 

Practice doesn’t really help. He’s functional. Not good, not terrible, just functional. That isn’t enough with the final game barreling toward him. To not play at this point, to have it all crumble now, here, after so much... 

He thinks he might be able to feel better if he could just talk to Hinata once more. Actually talk. Even if it’s just to end things, maybe that’s what he needs, some finality and closure so he can move on and play. 

Kageyama goes for a jog after practice and dinner that night, a few days out from the final match. He probably shouldn’t. It’s just going to make him even more exhausted after all those grueling practices. But jogging always clears his head in a way nothing else other than volleyball can. Unfortunately, volleyball isn’t an option at the moment.

He plots a long loop around the hotels and complexes and arenas. A few people shout at him from their cars, wishing him luck, cheering on Team Japan. Kageyama hopes the fact that he’s jogging is sufficient excuse for how curt his nods of thanks are. 

At least they don’t know. At least to the outside world he’s still the Kageyama who earned his place on the team and set for so many of the games leading to this moment. His chest clenches at the thought of how disappointed they’d be if they knew. 

The tightness makes it tough to breathe as he pushes up a hill along a winding road, but he welcomes the burn. It pulls him down into his body and out of his head. He slows as he spots the hotel just ahead, but he’s already feeling a little lighter. In the end, hasn’t Hinata made it easier for him? Hasn’t he simplified things? Now all Kageyama needs to think about is volleyball. 

He very nearly believes he’s in the clear when he steps out of the elevator and into the hall where his room is located. Someone is leaning against his door. 

Icy stones drop into Kageyama’s feet, making them heavy and leaden as he shuffles over the hotel carpeting. There’s no mistaking the figure playing on their phone against his door, but he waits until he gets close before he says, “Oikawa.” 

Oikawa Tooru looks up from his phone, flashing the same dazzlingly handsome smile he had in high school. He’s sun-tanned, but aside from that, little has changed since Kageyama faced him all those years ago. 

“Geeze, I thought you were never coming back,” Oikawa said. “What are you doing jogging anyway? Aren’t they working you hard enough in practice?” 

Kageyama folds his arms under his chest. “You’re blocking my door. Move. I need a shower.” 

Oikawa steps away and sweeps out his arm. “After you.” 

After? Kageyama narrows his eyes in suspicion and fits his key card into the slot. When he opens his door, Oikawa follows him into the hotel room before Kageyama can shut him out. 

Kageyama rounds on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Oikawa’s grin is gone. He’s absolutely serious as he faces down Kageyama. “We need to talk.” 

Even Kageyama can’t find it in him to snarl just yet. Oikawa’s eyes bore into his. His mouth is a firm, thin line. His face, while still charmingly handsome and media friendly, is an implacable brick wall. 

Kageyama turns away and settles on the edge of his bed to unlace his sneakers and throw them aside. He’s soaked through with sweat, but Oikawa doesn’t seem to care as he leans against a nearby wall and folds his arms. 

“OK,” Kageyama says. “Go ahead.” 

Oikawa quirks an eyebrow up. “What? Just like that? You’re not even going to pretend you don’t know.” 

“I’m tired,” Kageyama says, and never has it been more true. “Say what you came here to say.” 

A look very near to sympathy almost cracks Oikawa’s expression, but he holds firm. “So then you know this is about...”

“Hinata,” Kageyama says. “Yeah, I got that. Go on. Lecture me or whatever. Did Kuroo put you up to this?” 

“We’ve chatted.” 

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Great.” 

“He’s doing what’s best for the team,” Oikawa says. 

“Seriously?” Kageyama says. He heaves a sigh. “Please, spare me. Tell me it’s for Hinata’s sake or my own or whatever, but don’t pretend this is about ‘the team.’”

“Who else would it be about?” 

“They’re doing fine without me,” Kageyama says. “Atsumu will set. You should be happy.”

Oikawa pushes away from the wall and stomps forward to loom over Kageyama. “I’m not.”

“Why? You’ll probably win. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Not like this,” Oikawa says. “Not because you’re moping like a pathetic teenager and blowing easy sets. I want to beat you at your best.”

“Why?” Kageyama pushes again.

“Because it’s also _his_ best.”

That sticks in Kageyama’s chest, rendering him mute.

Oikawa goes on. “Even if you deserve to sit here suffocating in your own self-pity, Hinata doesn’t, the team doesn’t, I don’t. When I play him, I want him in top form. I want him fired up, flying impossibly high, confounding our whole defense. And I want to beat him anyway. But I only get that Hinata if _you_ are out there at your best too.” 

He stops, but Kageyama can hear his breaths. Heat loiters in Oikawa’s cheeks even after the speech is over. 

He shoves Kageyama down before he can react. Oikawa climbs right onto him on the bed, sitting on his hips, pinning his arms over his head. Kageyama has a moment to blink, to wonder at how this all tilted so rapidly, then Oikawa sweeps down to kiss him. 

Oikawa’s mouth is hot and firm, pressing Kageyama down into the mattress. For an instant, Kageyama is stunned, then something in him cracks open and he finds himself kissing back, licking into Oikawa’s mouth, searching for something inside him. He’s warm, but not like the sun; sweet, but it’s practiced, comprehensible. It’s not the kind of sweetness that edges against being too much and shouts into Kageyama’s gut. 

Still, when Oikawa releases his wrists, Kageyama grabs for his hips. Oikawa rolls, rubbing over Kageyama, the friction irresistible. 

Kageyama flips them both over so their legs aren’t hanging off the bed. He’s still in sweaty jogging clothes, but Oikawa doesn’t seem to care. He reaches into Kageyama’s shorts, looking him dead in the eyes as he grabs his cock. 

“Sure you want this?” Oikawa says. 

Fuck his knowing look, his feathery hair framing his face, his lips rosy from kissing. Fuck his hesitation and the way he loaded that question with far more meaning than four words should ever carry. 

“Don’t talk,” Kageyama says.

He leans down and presses his mouth over Oikawa’s to silence him – and his own thoughts. Oikawa opens his knees wider and Kageyama slots between them so that Oikawa can take both of them in hand and stroke them between their writhing bodies. 

It is very nearly enough to make Kageyama stop thinking. But the sounds he drinks from Oikawa’s mouth aren’t quite the right sounds, the hand holding his cock isn’t quite the right hand and the ache inside Kageyama is only barely quieted by the pounding heat that spreads through his body. 

Oikawa is as annoyingly skilled here as in every other aspect of his life, but he stops, leaving Kageyama’s cock throbbing. He eases Kageyama off his mouth to peer up at him, cupping his cheek. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says. “Hard.” 

Kageyama knows Oikawa feels the answering twitch of his cock because his grin spreads. 

They scramble apart to toss aside clothing. Kageyama doesn’t linger over the preparation. He spreads Oikawa quickly, loosening him sufficiently, not bothering to labor over the details. A single moment too long spent thinking through this and he’ll back out – and some part of him desperately doesn’t want to back out. 

His thoughts are still loud and demanding until the moment he sinks into Oikawa, then everything but their moans fade from his mind. 

Oikawa bucks and writhes beneath Kageyama, crying with pleasure even as Kageyama thrusts roughly and hurriedly into him. It’s simple, animalistic and effective. Kageyama plants his hands on either side of Oikawa, who wraps his legs around Kageyama’s back, and they grunt and rut and clutch until both of them are squeezing their eyes shut and tearing at the sheets. Oikawa has a way of curling his hips that doesn’t even feel like it should be possible, but every time he does it it makes color burst behind Kageyama’s closed eyes. He curls his back, overcome with the heat building inside him, and Oikawa reaches between them for himself. 

It’s so easy, so quick, that Kageyama doesn’t even have time to wonder if he should regret it. Oikawa’s warmth clenches around him and Kageyama groans and all those stones weighing him down shatter into dust. 

He stays encased until Oikawa comes, spilling over his own hand, sighing prettily as his body seizes and relaxes and seizes again.

Kageyama eases out to pad to the bathroom. He shuts the door and runs the water, contemplating himself as he hunches at the sink. He doesn’t know what to feel. Shouldn’t there be something though? Shame, rage, relief, pity, something? He just feels … well, he feels fine. For the first time in days, he simply feels fine.

Oikawa knocks at the door, but doesn’t ask before opening it. “You OK?” 

“Yes,” Kageyama says, and he means it. He truly does. “Do you, uh, need...”

Oikawa glances at his naked body, stark in the yellow bathroom lights. “Didn’t you want a shower?”

Kageyama nods. They end up in the stall together. They both bounce back quickly, using mouths and hands under the hot water and for the second time that evening Kageyama feels simply … fine. Sated and fine. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed before he truly contemplates it. Oikawa is covering up his body for the first time in at least an hour, but clothing somehow looks more unnatural on him than nudity. 

He paces over to Kageyama when he’s dressed, but he does not loom this time, merely cups Kageyama’s face in his hands to lean down and kiss him. 

“Seriously,” Oikawa says, “are you gonna be alright? I really didn’t come here for this, but it was nice, at least for me.” 

“I think so,” Kageyama says.

“You don’t look it.”

“I just...” Kageyama gathers up the words scattered in his mind like pebbles strew onto a pathway. “I keep thinking I should be upset? Or guilty? Or something?” 

Oikawa releases him and stands back, folding his arms. “Well, did you two have some kind of agreement or arrangement?”

“No. I just always assumed... Isn’t this the kind of thing people get upset about?” 

Oikawa laughs. “Well, sure, but you’re not on some Korean drama or something. You’re an adult. Make your own rules.” 

“How can I do that when...” 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Figure out what you want, Kageyama. Because despite your best efforts to the contrary, you can still have it, anything you want. Whether it’s volleyball or Hinata or both, I think all you really need to do is ask.” 

“And what about you?” 

“Me?” Oikawa laughs. “Sweetie, I’m not attached, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“No, I mean … will you tell him?”

Oikawa shrugs. “Not my business. Beating you bastards in volleyball is. I was just hoping to jog something loose in that thick head of yours and get you back on your game. This wasn’t how I assumed I’d accomplish it, but I’m not complaining.” 

“He won’t even look at me,” Kageyama says. 

Oikawa snorts. “You two are pathetic. He’s protecting you, darling. You’re so tense and scared they can see it from space. He’s doing what he thinks you want, what he thinks is best for both of you.”

He leans down and takes Kageyama by the chin. “Figure out what you want, Kageyama. The awful, harsh truth is that no one gives as much of a shit about this as you do. So fuck him, don’t fuck him, hell, marry him, but get your shit together because I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re a decent lay, understand?” 

He kisses Kageyama, swift and direct, then turns to leave, waving over his shoulder as he goes.

Kageyama sleeps better that night than he has in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be back next week with chapter 13! The final chapter comes out Dec. 31, New Year's Eve.
> 
>  **Next time:** Things are ... fine? Wait, what the hell happened? Why is Kageyama fine? 
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are ... fine? That can't be good.

Practice has been going better. Hinata is terrified to find out why.

Nothing has changed, not as far as he knows. He hasn’t said anything to Kageyama. Nor has Coach or even Kuroo (where the hell even _is_ Kuroo?). Hinata has maintained as much distance as he reasonably can, but some magic has been working behind the scenes because when Kageyama glances at him, he does not look afraid. 

It’s the quickest of looks, just a flick of the eyes. If Hinata was anyone else, he’d probably miss it. But he isn’t anyone else. He’s Hinata Shoyo and to him it’s a blinking neon sign that means “get your ass in the air.”

He does and sure enough the ball is there. He spikes it right past Ushijima’s block. 

Ushijima very nearly smiles when they return to the ground. 

Hinata looks to Kageyama, who doesn’t instantly turn away. 

“Nice set,” he tries.

Kageyama nods. He doesn’t flinch or run or blink. Just nods. Like a colleague. Like a teammate. 

The rest of the practice goes … fine.

 _Fine,_ Hinata thinks later. And ice floods his veins. 

He doesn’t know much about what Kageyama thinks, but he knows that “fine” is just about as bad as things could possibly be right now.

#

The next time Hinata steps onto a volleyball court, the eyes of the entire world are on him. Team Japan lines up across from Team Argentina and there he is, Oikawa Tooru, smirking right at Hinata, hands planted on his hips. 

When they shake hands, Oikawa holds on just a moment too long, tugs Hinata closer and says, low enough only he can hear, “See you on the other side.” 

Hinata has no idea what that means. It feels like something has spiraled unseen out of his control, something he didn’t even realize he’d been clinging to. He’s adrift, but it’s not entirely distressing. There’s a lightness to the huddle, an airiness even as Team Japan throws their arms around each other’s shoulders and closes in tight around Coach.

“They’re probably going to come out with some big serves,” Coach says. He looks right at Sakusa. “Don’t let them intimidate you. You can take whatever they’ve got. Give it right back to them. Don’t let up. The moment Oikawa sniffs a weakness, he’ll try to exploit it.” 

This time Coach’s eyes skim past Hinata. And Kageyama. Hinata isn’t sure what he finds there, but what he says is, “Kageyama, you’re starting. You got this?” 

“Yes, Coach,” Kageyama says. 

“You better.” 

There are more words, but none of them matter as much as those. Coach doesn’t need to tell Hinata he’s starting too. It’s part of the deal. They go out there together or not at all. 

Kageyama loiters on the fringes of Hinata’s vision like the edge of a cliff, a harsh pillar of darkness past which time and space simply ends. Oikawa is on the other side of the net, smirking and handsome and poised, but Hinata doesn’t fear anyone as much as he fears his own teammate. The arena quiets around him, blurring to a hum of white noise. The lights shine only on the court. Everything past the terminal finality of Kageyama is meaningless static. 

And that’s when he knows, standing there with his focus narrowed down to a single, silent, still point of the universe, the pillar of steadying, calm stone that is Kageyama. No matter what they are, no matter what his eerie “fine-ness” means, he’s ready to play volleyball today. And therefore so is Hinata.

The whistle blows. Hinata doesn’t look over at Kageyama, but he doesn’t need to. They have a job to do and it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than Oikawa to stop them.

#

Later, much later, or perhaps shortly later, some interminable splodge of time that’s already a blur of sound and color and screaming later – Hinata packs up everything he brought with him to the Olympics. 

He tucks neatly folded shirts into his suitcase. Souvenirs and mementos and gifts are stored safely away. Hinata empties the bathroom of his personal effects, taking a bottle of unopened travel size shampoo labeled “Tokyo 2021” just for sentimentality. 

After the match, after the shouts and cheers and speeches and reporters, the silence of this room rings in Hinata’s ears. 

The match was incredible. Every point, every serve, every second of those five grueling sets, every drop of sweat splashing to the court. His hands still thrum with unspent energy. He could go another five with Oikawa right now, but he doubts the rest of his exhausted team would jump at that prospect.

Except maybe Kageyama, of course. If there’s anyone mad enough to get back out on a court with Hinata right now, it’s definitely Kageyama. 

After the final whistle blew, Oikawa looked right at Kageyama, almost fixated. Hinata could not say what passed between the setters then. The way they glared across the net for the duration of the match, he half-expected a fight to break out. But they’d just stood there afterward, looking, like statues both waiting for the other to crumble first.

Then Oikawa had snorted, smiling to himself.

“At least it happened this way,” he’d said. 

“Thanks,” Kageyama said.

To Hinata’s utter astonishment, they’d approached each other, reaching under the net, clasping their hands. It even looked for a split second like they might have hugged. 

“Next time, you’re on your own, you absolute moron,” Oikawa said.

“I know,” Kageyama said. His eyes flickered toward Hinata. Oikawa’s gaze lingered longer, something cool and terrifying in those eyes.

Then the moment broke. They let go, walked away from each other and Hinata, and the world moved on as though Oikawa and Kageyama had never spoken at all. 

Even now, Hinata finds himself wondering if that cryptic conversation ever actually happened. There hadn’t been time to ponder it. The moment he and Kageyama approached their team, they’d been swallowed in hugs and congratulations. 

Hinata smiles to himself. Coach personally congratulated the two of them afterward, but it wasn’t merely for scoring points. They were on. They were two halves of a devastating whole. And the entire world got to see it.

Hinata fingers the pillow on the bed. It still smells faintly of Kageyama, even though he hasn’t been around lately. Hinata is tempted to steal the pillowcase, a memento of a thing he’ll get to keep only in his memory. Then that will fade, the edges going fuzzy. He’ll forget Kageyama’s scent. He’ll forget how his breath rasps when he finally unclenches his jaw and lets it out. He’ll forget the precise pressure of his hands. Those precious details will lose saturation, graying like an old photograph, and all Hinata will have left is the medal they won together. 

There are no more pep talks. There’s no more hoping Kageyama will come around. The whole team is going out to celebrate tonight and then it will be thoroughly, entirely over. No more listening for that furtive knock at his door, no more hoping he’ll stay a little longer this time, no more thinking that the strange gravity that draws them together on a volleyball court might work outside it as well. 

Hinata’s chest aches, but he smiles. It was great. It was amazing. He thinks a yellowed photograph is better than having nothing worth taking pictures of at all. 

Hinata finishes packing his things and gets ready to celebrate with his team one last time, the greatest volleyball team Japan may ever produce.

#

The entire bar erupts when Hinata and the rest of the team piles in. Team Japan rented out the entire place, but friends, family and support staff are already there and, from the looks of things, started the celebration well before the players arrived. 

It’s a whirlwind, a storm of noise and color and hugs and clinking glasses. Hinata has a drink in his hand before he even gets to a table. Everything’s been pushed aside so the players can cluster in the middle of the bar and raise their glasses. A camera flashes somewhere, one good shot for the promotional materials, but then they’re left to celebrate without the eyes of the public scrutinizing every move. 

That will come later, most likely. Coach has already warned that there will be interviews and photo ops, a whole press circuit to cycle through in the coming days and weeks. Life won’t get even close to “normal” again for quite a while. 

Maybe that’ll help, though. Maybe if Hinata just stays busy and occupied and overwhelmed, he won’t have time to feel the loss. Perhaps by the time he does have space to contemplate it, it won’t sting as much. 

He drinks to that, knocking back whatever’s been placed in his hand. It burns on the way down, sears through ache and memory and fatigue alike. Someone whoops and slaps him on the shoulder.

“That’s the spirit!” Bokuto says. He slams his drink back as well, grimacing. “Another!” 

And then he’s off and Hinata is caught up in the frantic energy of Bokuto’s excitement and they’re both tilting back something that smells like rubbing alcohol and tastes just about as bad. But it settles hot in Hinata’s stomach and it scorches everything it touches on the way down and those are the parts that really matter tonight.

“God, I’d love to see Oikawa’s face right now,” Bokuto says. “He must be absolutely raging.” 

Hinata remembers that cool, calculating look, that moment at the net when Kageyama and Oikawa had spoken in some strange cipher, and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, actually.” 

“The Great King himself?” Bokuto says. “Come on, he’s gotta be flipping tables to lose to the likes of us. He was always kinda full of himself.” 

“I think he appreciates a good opponent,” Hinata says. “I think that’s why he’s still playing.” 

Bokuto contemplates this for about half a second before shrugging it off and knocking back the rest of his drink. “Whatever. Either way, we won and he didn’t. And that’s what counts.” 

Hinata isn’t entirely sold on that, but tonight is not the night to push it. Tonight is a night to enjoy that they actually made it, that they’re really standing here the winners, that they got past every single obstacle in their path. 

Bokuto wanders off for another drink – he certainly isn’t holding back tonight – and Hinata scans the crowded bar. It’s easier said than done to pick out one face in the wavering crowd, already blurry at the edges thanks to the booze. Maybe he needs to cool it before he dives in too deeply too quickly. 

He tries to wander off to less raucous shores than a conversation with Bokuto entails, but totters after a step. The booze is hitting him pretty hard. He contemplates the dregs of his drink and decides on hanging onto it for a while, letting the first wave of intoxication filter out. 

Then he spots Kageyama and he might as well have just taken another shot. 

It’s not that he looks different. It’s that he looks exactly the same, exactly, persistently the same as he’s always looked. He’s chatting quietly with Atsumu, clutching a drink he doesn’t seem all that interested in, dark blue eyes narrowed with intensity. It’s easy to mistake that look for anger, but Hinata’s always seen it for what it really is – raw excitement. He’s talking about volleyball, about the game that just occurred. Hinata has never been more sure of anything in his life. Even mere hours later, Kageyama is obsessively picking at the details, probably trying to tease out every set that could have been just a fraction more perfect. In his mind, he’s already back at the net, ready for the next game. Olympics, medals, TV crews – they mean nothing to him. 

Hinata realizes his lips are slightly parted when Kageyama catches him watching. He snaps his mouth shut so quickly his teeth clack, but it makes no difference. That piercing, narrowed gaze is fixed on him now and in an instant the entire bar disappears.

Everything fades to a hum, a whisper, the noise dimming like it’s a candle someone snuffed out. The bar empties and expands. The space between Hinata and Kageyama is entirely blank, an expanse, a gulf, a freakin’ canyon worth of space. The Olympics are over; they’re on opposite sides of the net again, opponents and rivals. 

Hinata steps closer. 

Kageyama looks like he wants to run. Perhaps it’s only the net between them that convinces him to stay. 

This is dumb. Even drunk and teetering and flush with the high of victory, Hinata knows this is incredibly, unimaginably dumb. But there’s nothing left to lose. The photograph is already fading around the edges, the corners bent, so he might as well take one last picture. 

He stops like he would if that volleyball net between them was real, a distance he knows Kageyama is comfortable seeing him from. Atsumu is backing away, but Hinata barely registers him. The noise seeping back in skims over the surface of this weird bubble of space, this tremendously fragile pocket of air and hope. 

Hinata thinks maybe he can leave on his own terms. Maybe he can tie a neat bow on the end of this and know it really was over, nothing left behind, nothing left unfinished. He did everything he could, on and off the court, and got to walk away of his own volition. 

He sticks out his hand, just like Oikawa did. Kageyama looks at it like he’s never seen a hand in his entire life. Hinata would be exasperated if there was any time left for exasperation. Instead, he just lowers the hand. Why does Oikawa get that simple concession and he can’t? 

“I...” Kageyama starts. 

Hinata couldn’t care less what he has to say. It’ll be an apology or an excuse and Hinata can’t hear either. That’s not how the story ends. That’s not the neat bow that tidies this up. That’s not the last photograph he’s going to take away from this and clutch to his chest until it crumbles like dust under the weight of time. 

He bullies his way in, forcing this memory to end the way he wants it to, the way he needs it to.

“I can’t wait to play volleyball against you again,” he says. And it’s true. God help him, it is the absolute truth. No matter what they are, no matter how ugly this last snapshot, Kageyama will always be the greatest volleyball player he could possibly play with or against. That’s something worth holding on to. 

Kageyama does just about the most startling thing he can in that moment. He smiles. 

It’s just one side of his mouth, more a nervous tick than an actual smile, but it’s there. Hinata nearly bolts, sprinting away with that perfect memory burned on his mind. This is the snapshot. This is the photograph worth tucking away in his chest and digging out again only after it’s sepia-toned sweetness and not jagged technicolor. 

“Me too,” Kageyama says. 

“Atsumu knows your secrets now,” Hinata says. “You better be ready.” 

“I will be,” Kageyama says. 

“We won’t go easy on you just because you were our teammate for a couple months.”

“Yeah.” 

Kageyama doesn’t seem to have more than a couple words at a time. That half-smile is still there, but it flickers, a candle battered in a breeze and struggling to remain lit.

Hinata flees before it goes out entirely. They did it. They won together and had a conversation that wasn’t a disaster afterward. He shoulders through the bar, desperate not to lose this, desperate for this final memory to be a positive one. He isn’t even sure where he’s going. He just wants it to be away from that doubt tugging down Kageyama’s mouth, pulling it into some bitter and regretful shape that will shred Hinata’s last hopes. 

He can’t find Bokuto. His teammates dissolve into shapes. Someone might call for him, but he isn’t sure. He just keeps moving, searching for somewhere safe. 

He finds the exit. The night air blasts against his skin like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face. It isn’t especially cold, but Hinata shivers like he’s just jumped into a pool. 

He relaxes. The noise of the celebration dims behind him. He’s still holding a drink, which seems ridiculous now, but he just goes on holding it, letting out the breaths he didn’t know he was trapping in his chest. 

Maybe he should just leave now. It’d be nice to celebrate with everyone, but if he goes now, he can have everything he came here for – the games, the medal, even... 

Kageyama nearly bowls him over when he shoves out of the bar. He stops short, blinking at Hinata standing there on the sidewalk. 

“I thought you ran away,” he says.

Hinata wants to, now, but he shakes his head. “Just needed some air.”

Kageyama takes a tentative step closer. “Did you? Because it seemed like--”

Hinata sweeps in and slaps his hand over Kageyama’s mouth before he can say any more. 

“Stop,” he says. “It was nice, right? The game and this and … it was just nice. I’d like to leave it that way.” 

It’s a bit blunt. Even when Hinata removes his hand, Kageyama stands there mute and frozen. His throat bobs when he swallows.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, “it was nice. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Hinata says. “For god’s sake, could you please just not apologize? Not right now. I just … want to make this a happy memory.” 

Kageyama squirms like this request physically pains him, but he says, “I do too.” He’s studying his feet the way he’d study a playbook, eyes unseeing, so lost in his head he might as well be incorporeal. 

And this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t how it’s meant to end, god damn it. This isn’t the photograph Hinata was so careful to construct so that he could leave here without his heart weighing 2,000 tons. 

Then Kageyama looks up and his eyes are pools of blue-black, like the entire universe is contained in his gaze, a swirling eternity. He steps forward. Hinata steps back. It isn’t to get away. It’s so the wall of the building can catch him before he falls. Because Kageyama’s hand is in his hair and Kageyama’s mouth is on his mouth and Kageyama’s scent is so strong all around him that Hinata is positive he’d be on the ground if it weren’t for that wall.

Kageyama pulls away, but does not go far, breath hot in Hinata’s face. 

“Let’s make one last memory,” Kageyama says.

It’s stupid, cheesy, pathetic and most of all destructive as all hell, but Hinata looks into those fathomless eyes, eyes like the deepest depths of the ocean, only barely still blue at all, and he says, breathless, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. Is there really only one chapter left??? What a weird, fun journey it's been. I will be back on Dec. 31, New Year's Eve, to wrap this bad boy up. Sorry for the delay. I have other plans for Christmas posting. 
> 
> **Next time (for the last time):** One last memory. But is it enough?
> 
> \-- 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last memory. Will it be enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! We're at the end. Thank you for coming along for this journey. Please read the end note for an announcement I can't put here (you'll see why).

They spill into the hotel room like water left to boil too long, overflowing with energy that sizzles and hisses and burns. Kageyama backs blindly toward the bed. He doesn’t stop to look, doesn’t pause when he bumps into Hinata’s luggage all packed and ready to go. Still, it’s a stark reminder of why they’re here, a blunt, physical notice that this is it, this is the end. After tonight, they all go home. It’s over.

Not yet.

Not now. 

Kageyama can think about that later. Right now, there’s only Hinata’s mouth hot against his, Hinata’s body sharing heat with his own, Hinata’s hair clutched in his hands. 

He hits the edge of the bed and falls. Hinata comes with him, landing on top of Kageyama. Their mouths hardly separate as they shuffle and grope, shimmying onto the bed with clothes and sneakers still on. 

They hardly took a breath after abandoning the party, running for the hotel hand-in-hand. They grabbed each other in the elevator and their mouths haven’t parted since. 

Kageyama gropes for Hinata’s ass, hiking him up over his hips. Hinata moans and shifts, clawing through Kageyama’s hair as he kisses him down into the mattress. 

Finally, they break. Hinata sits up, gasping even as he yanks his shirt up and throws it across the room. Whatever murky mixture of streetlight and moonlight can squeeze through the blinds slashes across hard planes, highlighting the curve of Hinata’s chest and ridges of his abs. 

Hinata shoves Kageyama’s shirt up, still sitting on him as he peels it off. His hands linger on Kageyama’s chest for a moment. It’s soft, gentle, nostalgic. It clashes with the overflowing, urgent heat that brought them here. 

It’s terrifying. 

Kageyama catches Hinata’s wrists, stopping his slow exploration. 

“I want,” Kageyama says. He swallows to make space in his throat. He knows what he wants. He’s known it for a long time. He’s dreamed persistently of it. Yet the words stick in his mouth and Kageyama has to force them out. “I want … you to … to do it. This time.” 

He prays he doesn’t have to elaborate. Hinata pauses, going still, way too still. Then he nods.

Hinata flies into motion. He jerks his wrists free and jumps back off the bed. He takes the time to kick his pants aside, but Kageyama hardly gets to enjoy the sight before Hinata drags him up, turns him around and shoves him down to bend over the side of the bed. 

Kageyama can’t see Hinata anymore, but he doesn’t need to. He hears the thud of knees hitting the carpet and then, sudden and startling, Hinata grabs his ass, separates the cheeks and licks along him. 

Kageyama makes a strangled, pathetic noise, a noise he never would have thought himself capable of before this moment. Hinata squeezes his ass, not letting him wriggle away, and licks around his rim. His tongue circles and prods, random patterns Kageyama can’t possibly hope to untangle with his blood on fire and his nerves blazing hot. He’s clinging to the bed, hands winding tighter as he tries to quiet the tremble rising like the first rumbles of thunder preceding a storm. 

Hinata gives him no reprieve. Just when Kageyama thinks he might be easing up, drawing back, taking a breath, he sucks hard, popping off with a wet smack only to dive back in with his tongue. 

Kageyama’s legs shiver. He can do nothing to stop it. They’re burning, bent weirdly so he’s low enough for Hinata but high enough for the bed, but that’s not why he’s shaking. He fears he’ll be on his knees soon if Hinata does not give him a break from his relentless offensive, little different from his pursuit of a spike on the court. 

God, is he really thinking about volleyball right now? With Hinata eating his whole ass and his cock achingly hard, is he really thinking of how Hinata flies across a volleyball court, how he soars in the air, how he tirelessly pursues every spike and chance ball and serve in some weird parallel of what he’s doing right now?

Kageyama doesn’t even get an opportunity to be exasperated with himself. Hinata sucks again, tongue doing laps around his rim. Then he pulls away, slapping Kageyama’s ass – one swift, hard strike that makes Kageyama yelp and hitch forward. The motion rubs his cock against the mattress and Kageyama is reminded yet again of how desperately, mercilessly hard he is, how badly his whole body wants what’s coming next, if only Hinata will hurry the fuck up. 

He is too distracted to know what Hinata is doing back there until Hinata rubs lube over the place he just licked. He swirls it around, taking his time, pressing occasionally, doing far more than merely slicking Kageyama up. 

When Hinata’s hand goes away, Kageyama’s breath catches in his chest. He’s used toys and fingers, but he’s never done this. He wants it so bad he could weep, but that doesn’t entirely overwhelm the tremble of anticipation fluttering behind his ribs. 

Hinata rubs over his hole. A finger dips inside. Kageyama jerks a little, but it doesn’t hurt, not even when Hinata adds a second and starts pumping and scissoring and exploring. The pressure only makes him hunger for more. 

“Hinata, please,” he gasps. 

“Shh,” Hinata says. “I’m going to enjoy this. And so are you. Let me take my time.” 

Kageyama whines but does not disagree. As desperate as his body is, some sliver of his brain that can still form thoughts knows Hinata is right. 

Hinata’s fingers work deliberately and thoroughly inside him, loosening his tight walls, melting down his resistance until he’s pliant on Hinata’s hand. 

A third finger. God damn it, Hinata really means to drag every second out of this. Kageyama moans, but it’s partly distress. He _needs_ this, needs it now, needs it so badly every moment without it takes on a keen, biting edge. 

Finally, Hinata removes his probing hand. He lays his cock against Kageyama, just letting him feel its size and weight. Bigger than the fingers. Definitely bigger. Kageyama didn’t really think about that. All he thought about was the desire bubbling up his throat and twisting his stomach into knots. 

Hinata lines up against him and starts to push. Kageyama tenses on pure instinct, but lets out a breath. In that moment, Hinata nudges in, stretching Kageyama, sliding in to fill him in a way no finger or toy ever has. It’s not merely the size. There are plenty of dildos that can match sheer size. This is different. This is _more_ , more everything, more heat, more pressure, more burn. It demands in a way objects can’t. Hinata keeps pushing and Kageyama can’t really do anything about it. He isn’t in control of this. He can’t dictate each inch. He has to relax; he has to let go. 

So he does.

Kageyama grips the bedspread, face against the sheets, and groans as Hinata wriggles inside him and pauses at some depth that feels like both enough and not nearly the end. He rubs a hand over Kageyama’s ass as he stands there and holds Kageyama by the hips. Then, he simply waits. 

“W-what are you doing?” Kageyama grits. “Just do it. Fuck me.” 

“I know,” Hinata says. “I know.” There’s something wistful in his voice, as though starting to move will break a spell. Or, perhaps, it will start a timer, a countdown. 

Kageyama understands the desire to keep that clock from ticking down, but his body is so brittle with need that he can’t delay much longer. 

“Please,” he says. “Hinata, please.” 

A breath. It might even be a sigh. But Hinata relents and starts to move. 

When he drags back, everything in Kageyama clenches around this new sensation. Kageyama nearly marvels at the ease of it, the smoothness, then Hinata pushes back in and he’s full to his throat, so full he could explode from it. 

“God, god, god,” he pants, not even knowing who he’s praying to. He just has to say something, has to expel air from his chest to relieve some of the wonderful pressure knotting up everything inside him. 

He never entirely adjusts. Is he supposed to? He isn’t sure. He just knows that every time Hinata pushes back in it’s a brand new delirious world of sensation unlike anything he’s managed to do to himself. Hinata’s fingers dig in at his hips. Some of his careful control starts to crack and he thrusts in harder, faster. It’s almost too much, but every time it dances along that razor’s edge something sparks inside Kageyama, making him moan with a pure, excruciating pleasure. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata breathes. It washes over Kageyama’s back, a heavenly wind. “Tobio,” he adds. 

Kageyama would answer, but nothing fits out of his throat aside from moans and whimpers. His eyes are squeezing nearly as hard as his fists in the bedsheets, but it isn’t from pain. It’s so far beyond pleasure or pain, a feeling that defies either category. 

It’s so much better than his dreams.

Those were always detached, incorporeal. He couldn’t feel, only imagine. But this – this is a tidal wave of feeling, a barrage of feeling. It presses in on every side, from the tingle in his scalp to the ache in his hands, to the burn of his ass. His cock is trying to curve up to touch him, but he can’t even attempt to reach for it. All he can do is cling to the bed and accept the storm breaking inside him. 

“Kageyama, I’m going to come,” Hinata says. “Fuck, you just feel so good. I can’t hold back much longer.” 

He whines. The warning makes him realize how close he is himself, how much his body wants to completely let go, if only he’ll let it. All it’ll take is a breath, a nudge. Suddenly, he’s so close he’s afraid he’ll get there too soon, but Hinata is moaning behind him. 

“Oh god, Kageyama. I’m so close. I’m so close. Fuck.” 

Skin slaps against skin. Each beat pounds through Kageyama, shakes him to his core, breaks him into smaller and smaller pieces. He scrabbles toward the edge. He can’t possibly reach his cock but he doesn’t think that’s going to matter.

He comes before Hinata. It feels explosive, destructive, like his body is tearing itself apart to get this out, like he can’t come fast enough or hard enough to satisfy what’s flaring out of control within him. 

Hinata’s smooth strokes turn erratic. He grips Kageyama harder. They both jerk and shudder and moan and clutch, enduring wave after ecstatic wave with their bodies interlocked and blazing hot. 

When Hinata sinks forward, Kageyama cannot hold his weight. He sags down as well, heedless of the wet patch on the bed. He grunts as Hinata eases out of him, but even that doesn’t take them very far apart. They’re both kneeling on the floor. Kageyama is slumped over the side of the bed, panting for breath, and Hinata is breathing against his back. Sweat and heat collects where Hinata’s chest meets Kageyama’s back, but neither of them move to disperse it. They don’t bother with the sweat or cum, with clothes, with a more comfortable position. They stay there over the side of the bed as though they’ve used every drop of energy remaining in their bodies. 

Hinata wraps his arms around Kageyama, hugging him somehow closer and kissing his back. Kageyama has to fight not to moan even from that. His body is so tender right now that even a chaste kiss is too much stimulation. His ass is nearly pulsing in some strange but not unpleasant way, like it’s remembering of the shape of Hinata inside it. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata says. 

He squirms a hand down, setting it over Hinata’s. Once, he would have said this was far too intimate a gesture, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. They’ll clean up and leave and that’ll be it.

Kageyama squeezes Hinata’s hand as that thought tears through him like nails raking down his back. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata says again. “I...”

Kageyama braces for whatever’s coming next. He should have known. He should have known they couldn’t take their pleasure and go their separate ways. God, what a fool. But he doesn’t stop Hinata when he finally continues.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” Hinata says. 

Kageyama goes cold. His breathing shallows. His chest constricts. Fear overrides the echoes of pleasure. 

He turns in Hinata’s hold, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. Hinata stays close, sitting on his thighs. He cups Kageyama’s face in his hands, peering into his eyes with such raw hope and unabated terror that Kageyama can’t hold the look for long. 

“Hinata, I...”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore,” Hinata says. “It’s over. We’re leaving. We don’t have to be afraid. We could, I mean, if we wanted to, we could...” 

Kageyama draws a steadying breath. He didn’t even notice his hands go to Hinata’s hips, thumbs stroking without thought. “It’s not that.” 

“Then what? Please, tell me. Even if it’s a no, please just tell me why.” 

Kageyama dreads to look back up into that face like pure sunlight, but he owes Hinata at least that much. He scowls like he’s blinking at a sudden brightness. Perhaps he is. 

“I fucked Oikawa.” 

Hinata’s eyes widen and he sits up a little straighter.

“Right before the match,” Kageyama says. “I mean, not _right_ before, but not long before. He showed up at my room. He wanted to talk about, well, about you and I don’t even know how but--”

Hinata presses a finger over Kageyama’s lips. Incredibly, he’s smiling. “I don’t care about Oikawa. I didn’t ask you about Oikawa. Why would that matter?” 

“I … don’t know,” Kageyama says. “It just felt like … something I should tell you.” 

“Well, I appreciate the honesty, I guess, but that’s not what I care about right now. I care about you. About … us.” 

_Us._ Why is one little word so utterly terrifying? 

“I, look, I’m sorry,” Hinata says. “This is a bad time to demand answers. I should have just been glad we had a good time and left. I just want to know, before I go, before it’s over. I just want to know if there’s a chance.”

Kageyama swallows. His throat is scratchy and raw, but it’s not merely from the moaning. “There … is.”

Hinata freezes. He goes absolutely still. His eyes bore into Kageyama’s, the look bordering on unbearable with Hinata sitting so rigid and tense in his lap. “Really?” 

“Really,” Kageyama says. And now that he’s said it, it feels like the most obvious thing in the entire universe. “Really. There is. I.” He has to swallow again. Everything is so jumbled and tight in his throat. “I want.” Damn it, why is talking so hard? “To try.” 

Kageyama has seen Hinata smile before. He’s seen him celebrate a match. He’s seen him giddy and drunk. He’s seen him laugh at a joke. 

None of it compares to this. 

This smile isn’t merely like the sun; it is the sun itself. It is the light and heat that coaxes every green, growing thing out of its hibernation after winter passes. It is the embodiment of joy, pure and unfiltered. 

It is tremendously difficult to look directly at. So Kageyama doesn’t. He pulls Hinata to him and kisses that beautiful smile against his lips, like pressing a flower to preserve it. Hinata cups his face and kisses right back, kisses for so long Kageyama is light-headed and breathless when it’s over. He wouldn’t have stopped it a second sooner.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do if you said no,” Hinata says, laughing at himself. “I mean, I was going to try to play it cool, but god, I’d need, like, 10,000 pints of ice cream and the worst sound tracks you can imagine. I probably never would have been in shape for volleyball again.” 

“You would,” Kageyama says. “I won’t let you fall behind.” 

It’s a threat, not an endearment, but Hinata smiles and gives Kageyama another peck.

“I know.” He strokes Kageyama’s cheeks. “Even if we don’t have … whatever this becomes, I know we’ll still have that. Always.” 

“I don’t plan on letting you win any time soon,” Kageyama says. 

“I don’t plan on losing,” Hinata says. 

They laugh and Kageyama marvels at how simple this is, how easy, once he’s said it, once he’s let go and surrendered to the obvious.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

Hinata tilts his head.

“For … for all this,” Kageyama says. “For how this went. I’m sorry.” 

Hinata combs through Kageyama’s hair. “Neither of us made the best choices, but thank you. You _were_ kind of an ass.”

“Wow.” 

“I’m just being honest,” Hinata says, but he’s laughing. 

“I’m serious,” Kageyama says. “I don’t know why you’re still giving me a chance. I don’t know why you held out hope for this long while I ran away. And the fact I can only do it now--” He shakes his head. “I don’t deserve that much forgiveness.”

Hinata’s smirk twists and curls, mischievous. He stands, pulling Kageyama to his feet and dragging him into bed. 

“You don’t,” he says. “Fortunately, I know how you can make it up to me.” 

Then he pulls Kageyama down and words lose their worth.

#

The whistle blows. The crowd cheers. Both teams line up at the net. Kageyama dutifully takes his place, shaking the hand of each opponent.

When he reaches Hinata, Kageyama holds on a little longer. They linger for an extra beat at the net, opponents facing off in the aftermath of a match. 

Hinata just smirks. 

Kageyama floats through the huddle, the locker room, the interviews. It’s still so surreal to him, like he’s looking at a photograph of his perfect life rather than living it himself. It can’t possibly be real. It just feels so … so easy. 

Yet when he leaves the locker room, his bag slung over his shoulder, Hinata is there, waiting in the hallway. He strides up to Kageyama and kisses him right there with both their teams filtering past. 

“Your sets started sloppy,” Hinata says.

“Your serves were terrible,” he retorts. 

“They were calculated,” Hinata says. “We were trying something.”

“Try it in practice,” Kageyama says. “Not against your strongest opponent.”

“Strongest, huh?”

“Yes,” Kageyama says. He tries to remain serious, but a smile picks at the corners of this mouth. Even talking about volleyball, he can’t seem to remain overly stern with Hinata looking at him like that, especially because he knows it isn’t fleeting. It isn’t going away. He’ll see it again tonight. And again first thing in the morning. 

He steals a swift peck, then starts for the exit, Hinata’s hand in his. They chat about what to eat. They’re both starving after five grueling sets. MSBY and the Adlers always push each other to their limits, though, so this match is no surprise. 

They don’t quite make it to Hinata’s car. Hinata tugs on Kageyama’s hand, nudging him with his shoulder. “Is that--” Hinata says.

Kageyama sneaks a glance. Two figures are standing just outside the arena, the smaller of them fenced in against the wall by the taller’s arms. One is Kuroo, that much is clear, but the other... Kageyama can’t quite make them out. 

Hinata pulls at his hand, but Kageyama stays put. This is it, the only unresolved thread from the Olympics a few months back, but it’s been nagging at him all this time. The way Kuroo snuck around during the games, only to disappear with no notice or warning at the very end – it was just too strange to ignore. 

“Kageyama, what are you doing?” Hinata hisses as Kageyama steps away. 

Kageyama ignores him. He’s not leaving this to chance anymore. He marches across the pavement with a purpose, eyes fixed on Kuroo’s back. He deserves an explanation. The whole team does, really, but he’s probably the only one willing to stomp up to Kuroo and demand it. 

He nearly reaches Kuroo. He’s only steps away. He still can’t make out the person against the wall with the way Kuroo’s body blocks them, but he no longer cares. He reaches for Kuroo’s shoulder, prepared to force out the answers if he has to, when he hears it, soft and whiny and laced with intent:

“Daddy.” 

He freezes, blood running cold. He knows that sound, that voice. It’s in the timbre of that word, the sultry lilt of it. Kageyama couldn’t mistake that noise in the middle of a marching band. 

“Shit. Look.”

His hand is still hovering in the air just over Kuroo’s shoulder. He doesn’t need to grab Kuroo to get his attention though. Kuroo whirls, shocked, as though he isn’t standing outside in broad daylight. 

“Kageyama?” Kuroo says. “What are you doing here?”

“A match,” he says, but his voice is dull and flat. He’s not looking at Kuroo so much as past him, to the diminutive figure against the wall. 

Kenma Kozume steps forward. “Hey.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. But Kageyama hears so, so much more. The voice is different like this – when it’s calm and monotone rather than pleading and hot – but there’s no mistaking it anymore. 

Heat crawls into Kageyama’s face. He backs away, withdrawing his hand. 

Kuroo frowns at him. “Kageyama? You alright? Did you need something?” 

Kageyama blinks, shaking his head. “No,” he manages. “No, it’s nothing.” 

Kuroo shrugs. He glances down at Kenma, who shrugs as well, but there’s a smile playing along his lips, feline and mischievous. 

Kageyama spins away, too urgent. Hinata is there. He hooks an arm through Kageyama’s, helping to drag him away to the car. 

Only when they’re safely inside the vehicle does Hinata start laughing. 

“Oh my god, you looked terrified,” Hinata says. “You looked like you were dying.”

“He...” Kageyama is still struggling to find the words. It’s not that it’s surprising. Rather, it’s that it’s so obvious, so glaringly obvious. How did he not see it before now? How did he miss it all throughout the Olympics? “Did you see who he was with?” 

“Yup,” Hinata says. He pulls out of the parking lot and gets them on the road toward home. “That was kind of a surprise, huh? Though I guess it’s not that shocking. We probably should have guessed but we were a little busy being morons ourselves.” 

“God,” Kageyama says. “The lock room, the bathroom, all of it. Do you think it was really them?”

“Probably.”

“Those things they said...” Some of the words still burn in Kageyama’s brain, seared onto his memory like a brand. He shivers.

Hinata laughs, reaching over to pat his leg. “Gonna be alright there?”

“I just...”

“Hey, they could have been worse,” Hinata says. “They could have pretended to hate each other the whole time.”

“That’s unfair.”

Hinata laughs again. It’s so easy, so natural, hearing him laugh all the time like this. It’s the way things were always meant to be. 

Kageyama shakes his head, a smile creasing his mouth. 

Hinata looks over and even that brief glance is glassy with adoration. “At least everyone ended up where they should be, right?” 

Kageyama lets go. As he has so many times for Hinata, he lets go. He gives in. He surrenders. The smiles widens, unrestrained. When they reach a stoplight, he leans over, not able to wait until they get home to taste that sweet mouth again. Hinata tastes like home, tastes like comfort, he tastes like the terrifying feeling of letting go, but Kageyama isn’t afraid anymore. He doesn’t cower behind the decoy he throws up in front of everyone else. Here, with Hinata, he gives in. 

It’s perfect. It’s wonderful. It’s unfathomably, precisely, exactly where he should be. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: We're back!!! The Kuroken half of this story is officially underway and you can read it here in "[Call Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203536/chapters/71703816)." We'll be updating every other Thursday (mostly), just like this fic!
> 
> \-- 
> 
> That's it! Whew. It's been super fun creating this. Thank you so much for all the encouragement. It was truly so much fun to make this alongside y'all.
> 
>  **Announcement time!** You may have noticed that the secret couple - Kuroo and Kenma - are _sort of_ skimmed over at the end there. That isn't an accident. Don't worry. I'm not gonna leave you hanging. 
> 
> When I outlined this fic, I also outlined Kuroo and Kenma's entire story. It runs parallel to this fic - and I'm going to write it! So, if you're wondering:  
> \- What the heck happened in that locker room?  
> \- Was that bathroom sex _really_ that good?  
> \- How did they end up there at the end?  
> Don't worry! I am going to answer all of that. 
> 
> Kuroken's story is 12 chapters. I am going to give myself a little break and then start that one at **the end of January or beginning of February**. If you want to find out when it starts, you can either keep an eye on this fic (I'll update the notes and put both fics in a series together). Or you can follow my Twitter account, where I'll post the first chapter and any relevant updates.
> 
> In the meantime, I've got at least one spicy one-shot planned for KageHina NSFW Week because how could I possibly resist writing for an event like that? I love my sexy idiot volleyball boys. 
> 
> Thanks so much for coming along this far! I hope you enjoyed how this ended.
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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